


heart of stone

by onthelasttrain



Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, Teenage Cancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 154,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthelasttrain/pseuds/onthelasttrain
Summary: Janis Sarkisian has a heart of stone and a spine of steel. Her body, however, is just as fragile as anyone else's.When the world comes crashing down around you, how do you stay standing? More importantly, who stands with you?
Relationships: Cady Heron & Damian Hubbard & Janis Sarkisian, Cady Heron/Janis Sarkisian, Damian Hubbard & Janis Sarkisian, Regina George & Janis Sarkisian
Comments: 96
Kudos: 112





	1. Janis

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. First Mean Girls multichap. No big deal. Okay. I just want to throw in a few PSAs:
> 
> -This is a general Janis story. While her relationships are a part of it, it is largely about her journey through this.  
> -Regina will be getting some growth from where she was left in canon. I wanted to put this in here because I know she's a divisive character in the fandom and I want to give people the chance to back out now.  
> -As said in the tags, this is a story about cancer, so if that is likely to trigger or upset you proceed with caution. I have done my research, and am also drawing on my personal experiences. I can't promise this is a completely accurate depiction of cancer, as every case is different, but I can promise to try to handle it with as much respect as I can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I've seen someone else do this and thought I might give it a shot and tell you which I picture while writing. If it's not who you'd picture, feel free to ignore, but I thought I'd test it:
> 
> Barrett!Janis, Becca!Cady, Grey!Damian, Ashley!Regina, Jonalyn!Karen, Cailen!Gretchen

Janis zips up her backpack, the same one she carried with her through the first three years of high school. It may be old, but everything inside is new, pencils, pens, notebooks, you name it. Her mom even got her a new water bottle that keeps her water cool all day for her. She assured her that it wasn’t breaking the bank and maybe it wasn’t, but that’s not the point. The point is her mom still went out and bought her a fancy water bottle to keep her water cold for her.

She laces up her boots and looks in the mirror, a surge of insecurity coming over her, the kind she hasn’t felt since she was thirteen and stepping back into middle school after a year. It’s been a while since she’s spent this long picking out her clothes for school, but the plus side she guesses is that she doesn’t have to spend so much time on her hair now. So swings and roundabouts, really.

Cady spent almost all of last night on Facetime with her, telling her about being ‘the new kid’ and listening to Janis complaining about it. She had nodded sympathetically, almost nothing to say to her other than ‘you’ll be fine’ and ‘good luck’ and ‘I love you’. It’s not her fault, but it’s the way it is. Because Janis isn’t the new kid, not really. Certainly not in the way Cady was. Cady was joining a group of total strangers, but practically everyone in North Shore knows Janis’ name by now, even if she doesn’t know 99% of them and they’re a year younger than her. Everyone she knows is off in college, living their best lives, and she’s starting senior year now.

It’s funny when she thinks about it. In middle school and high school she had to disappear for a year, both due to factors beyond her control. Fingers crossed she’ll make it through college without a hitch.

Downstairs, her parents are no doubt having a hushed discussion about her even going to school. They had gone over it with her so many times it made her head spin, asking her if she’d prefer to Skype her classes and work from home. Her mom had even asked Mrs Heron about homeschooling her, much to the other woman’s delight. Who knew that when her mom and Cady’s mom finally bonded, it would be over this.

The old Janis would have rolled her eyes at them and tossed her hair over her shoulder, telling them they’re being over protective and dumb and that she’ll be absolutely fine, there’s nothing to worry about. But now, Janis can’t blame them, can she?

They’d one hell of a year.

**_One year (and 10 days) earlier_ **

Asking out Cady Heron was probably the best decision Janis had ever made. Okay, it wasn’t entirely her decision given that Damian had told her that Cady liked her, suggested Janis ask her out and also pushed her towards Cady’s locker, as well as hanging around just within earshot so he could intervene if something went wrong. Which miraculously, it didn’t, and she and Cady had spent a lovely evening with dinner and a movie and a kiss that made the butterflies in Janis’ stomach flap their little wings so hard she nearly flew away herself.

That was a lovely four months ago, and now she and Cady are laying on her bed, hands joined, legs intertwined, _Love Simon_ playing on her laptop. While her computer is burning her legs (damn she needs a new one), Cady’s the one who is really keeping her warm, the warmth and gentle and golden in her chest as she nuzzles into Janis a little. Her dad likes to jokingly call Cady a pixie, as in ‘she’s a pixie and you’re a vampire, Jan’, but Janis thinks there might actually be some truth in it, since her skin tingles when Cady’s hand slides under her top and her fingertips run across her side and stomach. Janis isn’t looking, but she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a trail of pink sparkles in her wake.

Janis kisses the top of her head, adjusting her hold on her girlfriend and pull her closer (she’ll never get used to that word, girlfriend, being used to describe Cady in relation to her).

“I’ve watched this movie like 10 times,” Cady begins. Janis won’t tell her, but she’s actually wrong. They’ve watched it 13 times, and she knows she’s watched it with Damian at least three more times. It’s a masterpiece though, so that’s acceptable. “But every time I watch it, I start worrying that Blue won’t show up at the Ferris wheel.”

“Or it would be Martin,” Janis says just as Simon gets on the ride for the first time.

“You know when you first showed me this, I thought that he was Blue?” Cady says. “Just for like a tiny, tiny second. But that’s what I thought.” Janis’s bed shakes as she laughs, her usual loud cackle that she’s still a little self-conscious about, even now. But it’s fading more and more every day. Cady laughs along with her, her light and musical tone more than making up for it. “Don’t blame me. I was close to peak Plastic back then.”

“Peak Plastic,” Janis echoes, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, a little purple lipstick coming off.

“Mm-hm.” Janis bites her lip, just a little, her skin beginning to crawl. She’s told Cady over and over that she’s been forgiven, even before they were this, but she wonders if Cady’s sure of it. Hell, Janis herself still wonders if she’s been forgiven for everything she did. Sometimes she likes to pretend that their junior year ended in December with Regina’s butt eating her underwear at the talent show, and then she and Cady got together and everything just became beautiful.

So she gives Cady a double kiss on the head to make sure she knows.

When Blue does show up, Cady lets out the most adorable squeak of excitement and her hand squeezes Janis’, her smile putting the late-August sunshine outside to shame. She buries her face in Janis’ chest so that only her brown eyes peek out, and lets out a long, high-pitched hum that makes Janis’ heart melt.

“They’re so cute,” she whispers. “They’re so cute, I am dying, send help.”

“You’re dying?” Janis asks thoughtfully, walking her fingers up and down her arm while she subtly and slowly pushed herself up on her side, her legs tingling as she mounts her attack. “Does that mean you need mouth to mouth?”

“Wh-”

Before Cady can answer, Janis flips the two of them over, her bed shaking and tapping loudly against her wall with the force. She takes a moment to hope her parents weren’t passing as she tries to catch her breath. For a few seconds, the world gets darker and her chest heaves, seemingly desperate for air. It does strike Janis as odd; she’s out of shape, maybe, but this out of shape? Really? Has her summer vacation been getting to her?

“Janis?”

“Did I hear someone say she needs mouth to mouth?” Janis asks, already feeling herself again. Cady’s anxious expression disappears, replaced by a flirtatious smile, her hands grasping Janis’ shirt.

“Maybe,” she responds, tilting her head up a little.

Some responses come to mind, but they all make Janis cringe, and so she leans in and presses a kiss to her girlfriend’s lips, sighing at the taste of honey and lemonade and the scent of orange blossom in her hair. Most of all, the sweetness of her lips, how gentle they are, how they make her toes curl and Janis’ head settle, chasing away any worries or woes. There’s no room for them here, not when it’s her and Cady and the world doesn’t matter.

Yeah, her girlfriend must be magical.

Cady texts her mom when the movie is over, as per Mrs Heron’s request. As over parents go, the Herons actually aren’t that bad, probably because Cady sticks to the rules they’ve laid out. She tells them where she’s going, and with whom; up until recently she’d text them every time they ran into someone, and how exactly she knows them. She obeys her curfew and is always home for dinner, asking ahead of time if she can come home later and guaranteeing she’ll eat when she’s out. As a result, Mrs Heron lessens her curfew more and more with each week and is apparently close to letting Cady learn to drive. That’s what Janis likes about the Herons, not that she hates her own parents; they see Cady as a person, and when she respects them, they respect her.

The two wait in the living room for Cady’s dad to pick her up, throwing the ball for Maxie, only interrupted once, by Janis’ dad, who tells them to be careful not to get Maxie too hyper or he will most definitely shit himself in the hallway.

“And I am not clearing that up,” he tells them, gesturing wildly with the end of the newspaper.

“Cady can do it,” Janis offers, scratching Max behind the ears while he nips at her hand. Okay, maybe her dad had a point. “She spent all her time before moving here cleaning up animal poop.”

“No I didn’t,” Cady protests before considering it. “Okay, a little bit. Kind of. But I did a lot more than animal poop.”

“Animal piss?”

“I’m going to leave before this conversation gets weirder,” her dad announces, eyeing the two of them with equal amounts of fondness and confusion. “Although if Cady ever wants a job cleaning up after Maxie, we’re open.”

“Get them dollas, Caddy,” Janis tells her, punching her arm gently.

“You know, I actually might get a job this year,” Cady says, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “You know, start saving up for college.”

“Smart plan,” Janis agrees. Despite the temptation, she’s not quit her mall job yet, designated her ‘the money friend’. College had never crossed her mind until Cady brought it up.

“Wish I’d thought of it earlier,” she says glumly, resting her chin on her knee. “What with school starting next week, I won’t have time!”

“Eleven days,” Janis reminds her, tapping her cheek. “School starts in eleven days. And you’ll find somewhere. I’ll help you.”

“Really?” Cady asks, her cheek smushing against the couch cushions. “You’d do that?”

“Of course, miss Caddy,” Janis replies, running her finger through Cady’s softer-than-soft hair. “That way you can start paying for date nights and we can be real fancy.” Cady grins, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, making Janis’ cheeks glow and bite her lip to trap the excited giggle where it is. She will not giggle, not in her own living room where her parents can hear.

“Oh, that’s my dad,” Cady sighs as a car horn toots out front. Janis is sort of in love with Cady’s dad’s car, mostly because it looks exactly like the kind of car Cady’s dad would own. It’s small and shaped like a box and dark blue, a little silver line running around the edge, and the horn toots like a little cartoon car. It came straight out a 1950’s move and it’s one of the most precious things Janis has ever seen. She hopes that when Cady starts driving, it’s this little shit she drives around in so Janis can revel in the cuteness all the time.

“See you tomorrow,” she tells her at the door, her hand resting on the handle. She glances shyly down the hall; both her parents absent, before looking back at Cady, whose eyes sparkle with anticipation. _Who am I to refuse the lady?_ she thinks as she bends down to give her a goodbye kiss, humming in contentment against her mouth and lingering in her space a little after she pulls away.

“See you tomorrow, Janis,” Cady replies, slipping out the door, taking a final look at Janis when she reaches the gate and giving her a finger-wiggling wave. Janis salutes lazily with her finger, watching as Cady gets into her dad’s car and they pull away from the kerb, rattling along down the road and around the corner, off to Cady’s little house.

And then Janis can feel the worst feeling of all; the relief that she’s gone.

It’s not relief, not exactly. Well, it is. Just not for that reason. Being with Cady is one of her favourite things to do in the world. But once Cady’s gone, she can drop the act she’s been keeping up for hours and her legs can give way, her back hitting the wall as she drags her hand over her face. A long, heavy sigh escapes her and her eyes fall shut as the remaining strength drops from her body. She could almost fall asleep standing against the wall were it not for the dog pawing at her legs, demanding hugs.

She’s just so damn tired.

She’s not entirely sure how long this has been going on, maybe just before school finished, or at the start of the break, but she’s felt like there’s been this little creature clinging to her back and sucking all the energy out of her. She’s gotten relatively okay at hiding it, thanks to extra espresso in her coffee and make-up hiding the shadows under her eyes, not to mention that her friends are always down for chill, relaxed activities. It’s not really affected her mood either, in fact, now that she’s with Cady, found some sort of friendship with Gretchen and Karen (Regina is a big question mark) and found some catharsis for her past, she’s found that, emotionally speaking, she’s better than she’s been in a long while.

But it’s there. Clinging to her back and reaching down to her legs, slowing her down, keeping her in bed longer than she wants to be and making her miss being at home even when she’s with her two most favourite people in the world.

Whatever this is, it may hurry up and leave before school starts, she thinks as she makes her way to the kitchen and leans against the counter, rubbing her heavy eyes. She is not dealing with this crap during a six hour day.

“You okay hon?” her mom asks, concern lining the edges of her voice.

“Just tired,” she replies, flipping the kettle on and taking out her Disney mug.

“Oh, you look it.” She knows her mom means well, what with the ‘what’s wrong sweetheart’ edge and airy tone of her voice, but her words are so blunt that Janis can’t help snorting.

“Love you too, Mom.”

“You know what I mean,” she says fondly. Her voice trails off, leaving a tense silence, her mom cocking her head to one side as she studies her. “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

“I have?” she says, feigning ignorance and dropping the tea bag into her mug. “Didn’t notice.” Her mom hums in agreement and then pats Janis on the shoulder, her touch careful and casual, and yet Janis jumps a little, stifling a gasp.

“You’re okay though, right?” she asks. Janis nods, her mind involuntarily going back to the time where she picked at meals and spent hours in her room and walking around the house with empty, haunted eyes and shadows on her face. There’s a reason Regina remains a question mark, no matter how many times she sits with her at lunch.

“I’m fine, Mom, really,” she says, turning to face her. “Just need to catch up on the sleep.” Her mom nods and runs a hand through her hair with a half-convinced smile.

“Okay kid,” she says after a while, her voice strained at the edges. “Do you need me to pick anything up for you tomorrow?”

 _A fully functioning body_ she thinks as she lifts her warm mug. Instead she shakes her head, giving her mom the ‘I’m okay’ smile she knows no one in her house fully believes anymore and mumbling a response before heading to her room, her hand always on a wall or bannister to keep her upright.

*****

She’s pulled from sleep in the early hours of the morning, her eyes blinking open and adjusting to the darkness just in time for her to feel her sleep shirt clung to her back and her hair wrapped around her throat and sticking like a spider’s web.

“Oh shit,” she sighs. She throws the covers off and runs a hand down her damp leg, sighing in frustration before pulling herself up and making her way to the bathroom.

She looks worse when she turns the light on. Black patches are splattered across her top and the sweat glistens in a pretty vile way, making Janis shudder. In addition to being tired pretty much every damn day, she’s also been dealing with this. It was sparing at first, but recently it seems like it’s every other night she’s woken up in the middle of the night a hot and sticky mess. And worst part is that the novelty of an innuendo has long since faded.

She presses a cold washcloth to her neck, sighing as the coolness fights against the heat of her skin. She considers getting in the shower and just letting the cold water pour over her body for a while, but she doesn’t want to wake her parents and once she gets in, there’s a chance she won’t get out. Her parents would find a giant cold raisin instead of their daughter. So she pulls her top off instead and holds the cloth against her chest, her stomach, her back, anywhere she can, forcing the prickling warmth off her body as quickly and as quietly as she can.

She hasn’t let her parents know about this. Mostly because she’s sure it’s nothing, some days it slips her mind entire. But also because she’s sure her mom would go batshit and be fussing over her every single day, buying out the entire herbal tea section at the store and all the medicine she can legally buy in one go. Two different responses clash in Janis’ head; one urging her to smile as a surge of fondness rises in her and another pulling it down, dampening the wave and pulling her back, all the while scolding her. Her parents took care of her enough back in eighth grade. They deserve a nice life for themselves now.

So she keeps doing what she was doing, taking care of herself, something she’s more than capable of doing anyway. She refreshes the cloth and holds it against herself, counting to ten each time. Much as she appreciates all they do for her and loves every part of them, she doesn’t really need her parents, not now. She’s got all this under control.

Besides, she thinks with a shrug, flicking off the light. It’s probably nothing serious.

******

She wakes with a stiff neck and heavy eyes the next morning, as well as her bare legs rubbing against her mattress and goosebumps prickling along her skin. Just before she collapsed onto her bed a few hours ago, she decided to take her pants off as well and stuff them under her pillow along with her shirt. Despite the chills that raced through her body and made her tremble, the way her pants stuck to her legs became way too uncomfortable for her. So she pulled the blanket around her almost-naked body and shut her eyes tight until she fell asleep.

Sleep is still reluctant to let her go, wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her back down. She may as well, after all, her alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. She turns over and grabs her phone to check the time, ready to give into her body’s demands once she knows-

“Fuck.”

11:37. She was meant to meet her friends almost ten minutes ago. That’s why she had an alarm set for 10:45, specifically for this purpose. So she wouldn’t be late. Like she is now. There’s three texts from Cady, two from Damian and one from Karen, all variations of ‘where are you?’ or ‘are you coming?’.

“Oh crap, okay,” she sighs. She pushes herself out of her bed, rubbing her heavy eyes with one hand and pulling on clothes with the other. Not having time to go to her closet, she picks the same loose grey t shirt and black skirt she wore yesterday, hoping Cady doesn’t notice or mind. She runs a brush through her hair while texting Cady a quick apology, promising that she’s on her way. She doesn’t even have the time of doing make-up, instead throwing some eyeliner and mascara in her bag and haphazardly lacing up her boots before taking the stairs two at a time.

“Dad?” she asks, leaning on the living room doorframe. The world tilts and sways a little and her hands tighten on the wood. Her dad looks up from his laptop, clad in jeans and a shirt and tie, the classic working from home look. “Dad… I’m sorry but I overslept and I was meant to meet my friends ten minutes ago and can you drive me to the mall?” Her tone is the kind of apologetic caution that was common in her preteen years, and even as he stands up and lifts his jacket, Janis feels a quick, sharp pang of guilt cut through her chest. “Actually screw it, I can walk.”

“No, it’s fine,” her dad says, picking his car keys up and closing his laptop. “I don’t have a meeting until one. I can drive you.”

“Okay,” she replies. Her dad pauses as he approaches her, his eyes scanning her face with concern. All Janis can offer him is a shrug as she tries to get her breathing back to normal.

“I’ll do my make up in the car,” she says.

“Okay.” Clearly, that’s not what he was thinking, but he takes it. “Did you eat breakfast?”

“Dad, I don’t have time-”

“Yes you do,” he insists. “Most important meal of the day.” He makes a detour to the kitchen and grabs her a granola bar and banana. As he presses them into her hands, his eyes narrow and he gives her another once-over. “You’re alright, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, crossing her fingers behind her back. She briefly considers about calling Cady and saying that she’s sick but dismisses it just as quickly. “Just a little... you know.”

She manages to do a decent job of her eyeliner and mascara, wishing she’d thought to put concealer or powder or something in there as well. Still, she’s done a good enough job of hiding the circles under her eyes and if anyone asks, she can dismiss it as stray make-up.

When her dad pulls up at the mall, her friends are hanging around the entrance, not exactly hard to spot. She thinks she could find Cady in any crowd, and Damian is over six feet tall and today decided to don a rainbow t-shirt and red suspenders. And aside from them, Karen’s ice cream bag stands out more than anything.

“Thank you,” she says, turning to her dad, once again feeling normal. “A lot.”

“You’re welcome kid,” he smiles back, squeezing her hand gently. “Go have fun, I’ll pick you up when you need to.”

She jogs up to them while her dad pulls away, Cady meeting her halfway for a light hug.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, grasping Cady’s hand. “I slept through my alarm.”

“Maybe set a better alarm next time,” Regina suggests, not a note of kindness in her voice as she inspects her nails. Janis takes in a deep breath but doesn’t bother to hide the eye roll. Not even Cady can make her promise that.

“Okay, let’s go,” Damian says, steering Janis away from Regina before it can turn ugly. Regina ignores Janis’ eyes entirely, toying with her blonde curls and feigning interest in whatever Karen is telling her. That’s just fine by her; Janis can cuddle up to Cady, revelling in the joy of holding her hand out where everyone can see, and listen to Cady excitedly point at the drawings of animals at the art stall, sold between $5-10 a pop. As they walk past the other shoppers, she likes to think she is silently communicating “that’s my girlfriend!” with her beaming smile. She can swing their hands and insist on buying Cady an iced coffee and they can share a little muffin and Cady can slip her hand into Janis’ back pocket and rest her head on her shoulder. They can do all this out here, in public, and most importantly in front of Regina, and Janis can just not give two shits.

They follow the Plastics around the make-up store first, since apparently they’re all in need of some back to school make-up. That’s fine too since Janis can look at her favourite brands and test out new shades on her skin. Karen even bounds up to her with the same kind of energy that Maxie has when Janis comes home from school and asks her opinion on eyeshadow colours. A few months ago this would have sent alarm bells going off in Janis’ head and her eyes darting around and her waiting for the catch. Now she smiles and compares the colours to Karen’s fair skin and recommends she buy the pale ones. There’s something satisfying about Karen’s smile and bounce as she thanks her, squeezing her hand a little before running off to the counter to pay. And it’s not the kind of satisfied she felt when she was watching Regina fall; while she won’t admit it to anyone, it’s kind of better.

Once they’re done there they head off to the stationery store, all six of them in need of new stuff for school. Janis is relying on her spikey backpack to get her through the last year of school, since it took her through the first three, but she wraps her arms around Cady as she contemplates which backpack to get, enchanted by the one with little cartoon frogs and captivated by one with flowers sketched onto the fabric. Janis chuckles and hugs her tighter. She could watch Cady choose backpacks forever. That’s why she’s fine standing there, not because she’s tired.

“So should we just leave you here for an hour or so?” Damian jokes as Janis approaches the art department. She chuckles, poking her tongue out at him.

“I’ll just be a second,” she says. “I got a load of new stuff over the summer. I just need a new book.” She ignores the hardbacked books and the ones with the highly decorated covers in favour of the same ones she always gets; bottom shelf, end of the row, the plain black covers that she can decorate herself. If her art is inside it, why shouldn’t it be on the outside too?

As she bends down, she finds herself pressing her hand against the shelf to steady herself. She hadn’t realised how tired she had felt until she was sitting down, even if her legs are bent awkwardly beneath her and it’s not exactly the most comfortable position. Maybe it’s from oversleeping, but she could just lay down here if she didn’t care about her pride or store policy. She lets out a long breath-has her chest been this tight all day? 

“Janis?” Damian asks, frowning a little, his Mom-friend instincts overriding anything else. He’s probably a minute away from kneeling down and whispering ‘you okay baby’ in her ear. To which she would reply “yeah” because that’s what she is. Completely fine.

“I’m good,” she says, picking up the book and pulling herself up, her weary legs protesting as she does so. She shakes her head, resisting the urge to rub her eyes, and gives them a smile that she hopes is convincing. “I got it. I’m fine.”

As she passes them, Cady and Damian share an uncertain look that they think she doesn’t see, and she tries not to be annoyed at it.

Once she noticed how tired she is though, she can’t ignore it, and it’s not for a lack of trying. Weakness and fatigue settle into her body and cloud her mind as they go about their day, and it becomes harder and harder to shake off. Her chest soon starts feeling hollow and cold, her legs unstable and shaky. The worst part is her brain lagging and freezing like the computers in school. Focussing seems to become more of a challenge with each step she takes and the long, steady beep of the store’s alarm doesn’t do much to help.

 _Oh, right,_ she thinks to herself, feeling foolish. _That’s me._

She pulls her jacket tighter around herself as the air turns colder. Did they go outside? No, they can’t have, they’re still in the mall. Did someone leave a door open maybe?

A weight falls from her hand and it’s then she realises that she hasn’t passed anything yet.

“Janis?” Cady asks. She blinks, looking at Cady’s barely-concealed worry, her eyes wide, her hand slowly creeping towards her. She looks behind her and sees Karen looking at Gretchen, then Regina and finally Damian in confusion while Gretchen’s mouth falls into an O shape and even Regina looks worried, her hand halfway extended towards her and her eyes wide.

Janis scoffs at herself, or at least she thinks she does. It’s hard to tell right now. She needs to get her shit together, and that needs to happen now.

“I’m fine,” she says breathlessly. Because she is. The room is definitely not tilting. “I’m just… I’m just tired.”

The word ‘tired’ has barely left her mouth before her legs crumple and her body crashes into something warm and both soft and firm at the same time. No, not something. Someone. Damian guides her down to the floor, his arms strong around her, one hand holding hers and the other stroking her head.

“I’m okay,” she whispers. For a second, she wonders if anyone heard her, but the thought flies out of her head in an instant. Damian asks if she can hear him and she nods, mumbling something that probably made more sense in her head. She leans against him, letting her body have the rest it’s been begging for. Cady kneels next to her, asking Damian something she can’t make out and beginning to pull Janis’ coat off her despite her protests. Or what are meant to be protests anyway. She feels Cady’s hand against her cheek and manages to hear the word ‘burning up’ in her voice.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, trying to sit somewhat independently despite Cady and Damian’s wishes. Someone offers her a bottle of water and she takes it gladly, not having realised how thirsty she was. She thinks it might have been Regina but logic doubts it. Regina would pour the water out in front of her instead.

The world comes back into focus again, little by little, and thankfully she feels too drained to be embarrassed.

“You’re back?” Damian asks. She nods in response, taking another swing of water. Has water always tasted this good? “Think you can make it outside? I’m going to call your dad-”

“No, Damian,” she protests, her voice cracking. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Cady corrects her. “Janis, you’ve got a fever and you just passed you. You’re not fine.” She strokes her cheek, a gesture that’s half affection, half worry, her brown eyes pleading and breaking Janis’ heart with the way they grow. “Please, Janis.”

“Okay,” she sighs, squeezing Cady’s hand. “Okay I’ll go home. I can get outside.” And she makes it, even if she’s mostly leaning on Damian. As he calls her dad, she sits on one of the benches with Cady on one side and Karen on the other, the Plastic rubbing her back and stroking her hair, while she keeps sipping water and her brain puts itself back together.

Yep. There’s the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry guys,” she says. “I’m sorry I messed up our day.”

“You didn’t mess it up,” Gretchen assures her. She’s kept her distance since Janis collapsed, but now she inches forward a little, and then a little more and kneels in front of her, patting her knee kindly. “You just got sick, it happens.”

Janis hums in acknowledgement and takes another shaky sip of water, wincing a little. This is probably to some degree her own fault. Not like her body wasn’t giving her all the warning signs possible.

“Here.” She hands Karen the pink flask when her dad’s car pull up beside them. “Thanks Karen.”

“Oh it’s Regina’s,” she corrects, throwing the other girl the bottle. Janis’ head swings so quickly from Karen to Regina that she almost passes out again and the queen bee offers her nothing but a casual shrug and a sympathetic look that makes Janis’ hands curl into fists.

So it’s gotten to the point of Regina being nice to her? Is that where she’s at now?

Christ she better get over this fast.

Damian helps her into her dad’s car and pats her head gently.

“Rest up, Buttercup,” he tells her affectionately, his face still creased with concern. She squeezes his hand and gives him a smile before he closes the door and her dad pulls out of the parking lot. The farther away they go, the more her heart clenches in her already-pained chest, a nasty cocktail made of anxiety, embarrassment and guilt brewing and bubbling inside her. She checks her phone and tells herself she’s stupid for doing so. They’re having fun. Without her. That’s their right, isn’t it?

“You just lay down, kid,” her dad tells her, helping her into her room. She’s past the point of refusing help by now and leaned on her dad all the way up the stairs and into her room. “You need anything? Some water, some food?”

“I’m okay,” she says, leaning back on her hands and wincing at the sharp pain in her head. “I just want to lie down.”

“Okay, kid,” he replies, ruffling her hair affectionately and checking her temperature at the same time. He takes in a sharp breath, his shoulders tensing. “I’m going to get you some medicine, just to be safe, okay?”

“Fine.” When her dad leaves, she tosses her jacket to the corner and starts unlacing her boots before peeling off her tights and skirt. She’s cold in just her t-shirt but getting a sweater would involve getting out of bed and she doesn’t trust herself to stay upright. So she presses her face into her pillow and pulls the covers tighter around her, the pain in her head and heart fading the closer to sleep she gets.

When her mom comes home from work that evening, she’s managed to change into leggings and a sweater and move her ass down to the living room. A grilled cheese sits on her lap and her dog’s head rests beside her as she watches TV. Despite being warned by her dad, she slips Maxie little bits of sandwich every now and then. If she’s not going to finish it, then it may as well go to a good home.

“How’s the patient?” her mom asks, leaning on the doorframe.

“Fine,” she replies, meaning not at all. Her whole body feels empty and run-down like an abandoned house; she imagines cobwebs hanging from her ribcage and a family of mice burrowing in her chest.

And that image put her off her sandwich.

“Your dad said you passed out,” she presses, coming to sit on the edge of the couch. Janis nods, looking down at her lap. There have been texts since this morning from everyone bar Regina; when she woke up there were six just from Damian alone, five asking if she was okay and one asking how he looked in the new waistcoat he’d bought. Despite how shit she had felt, Damian’s concern had made her forget just for a few minutes.

“Yeah. I think I was just overtired or something,” she sighs. “I overslept this morning.”

“And you’ve got a fever.”

“Okay, WebMD,” she jokes, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’ve probably just come down with something. It’ll go away on its own.”

“I don’t know about that…” Her mom moves closer to her, her face falling even more, confusion clouding her features. “Janis… how long has that been going on?”

“How long has what-ow!” Sharp pains jerk through her neck and her back and even up to the back of her head. Her breathing turns short and rapid until it subsides and she’s left with a phantom feeling buzzing on her skin. “Mom!”

“Sorry, hon,” she says. “Just… that swelling around your neck, when did that happen?”

“Swelling, what, where?” she asks. She gets up and goes over to the mirror on the wall, at first seeing nothing, but when she turns the light on, moves her hair and looks closer, she finds fat little lumps on the underside of her jaw. Turning around and straining her eyes, she can see some on the back of her neck as well, normally hidden by her hair. It looks like someone shoved a ping pong ball down her throat. Against her better judgement she pokes one, gasping as the same pain jumps out at her. “The hell?”

Had those always been there?

“Are they new?” her mom asks.

“I don’t know.” She lowers herself onto the chair behind her, resting her head against the wall and chewing her nail. Her mom doesn’t even tell her to stop.

“Maybe I should make a doctor’s appointment for you,” her mom says, checking her forehead again. “Hopefully, it’s nothing… wouldn’t want you to have to miss your first day.”

“Okay,” Janis agrees, her fingers straying to the swellings again. Now that she’s seen them, she can’t not be aware of their presence. They call out to her like little sirens that live on her body. Her mom pats her head before going to the kitchen, her phone already out of her bag. Down the hall, she hears her talking to her dad about her, mentioning strep throat and tonsillitis and other such illnesses. Janis sighs, leaning her head back only to be created with painful twinges. Thanks, little body sirens, she sighs.

On the couch, Maxie shows no sympathy towards her, instead gobbling up her leftover sandwich. He looks over at her, eyes innocent and mouth covered with crumbs and cheese, and it makes her laugh.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t planning on finishing that,” she tells him seriously and she takes his little squeak as an ‘I know’.

Janis really doesn’t like doctor’s offices. Everything’s way too clean and the people are too smiley, save for the bored looking receptionist who has to remind herself to be happy every couple of minutes. People avoid each other’s eyes as they wait; an exhausted mom holding a newborn on her knee and a toddler at her feet, a little girl playing with the outdated toys, a grandpa with a newspaper spread across his lap. They all look at phones or books and not each other, except for when the toddler comes over and starts poking at Janis’ boots, fascinated by the silver buckle and deciding he wants it.

When Janis’ name is called, the kid protests loudly, and she agrees with him. Sitting here chilling with a toddler sounds way more pleasant than whatever’s going to happen in there.

“Hi sweetie,” the nurse greets. Her white coat is thrown over the chair and her light hair tied back in a ponytail, her smile is covered in pale pink lipstick and her gentle eyes are framed with eyeliner and pink eyeshadow. It almost puts Janis at ease. Almost. “So your mom said you’ve been sick for the past few days? You passed out on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah.” Janis sits up on the bed, taking comfort in the way her feet dangle above the floor. At her height, this is a pretty rare occurrence, so sue her for liking it. “I um… I’ve been really tired lately.”

“Okay… do you know when this started?” She bites her lip, shaking her head.

“Um… maybe just before school ended, or just at the start of summer,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck and wincing. “Oh, and I’ve got these boys.” She pulls her hair up so her doctor can get a better look at them. “I don’t know when they showed up. My mom noticed them before she made the appointment.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Only when I touch them,” she answers. “Then they scream like a-then they hurt.” Her doctor chuckles at her word choice, although her smile quickly disappears.

“Has there been anything else?” she asks. “Chills, fever, night sweats?”

“Check, check and check,” she replies grimly. “I um… I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night and just…” She gestures to all of herself, searching for a less-gross way to put this. Her brain immediately thinks ‘does she really need to know this’, apparently unaware that they’re in a doctor’s office for this very purpose, and this probably isn’t the most disgusting thing she’s heard today. “Sweat. Everywhere.”

Is it any wonder she's never gotten above a B in English?

“Okay,” the doctor says thoughtfully. “What we’re going to do is take a little blood from you so we can run some tests, and I’ll just give you a quick check to rule out anything else. We’ll hopefully have the results in less than a week, and until then just rest up, try not to do anything too wild, and maybe limit contact with other people, just in case you have something contagious. Sound good?”

“I’ll clear my social calendar,” Janis replies. She takes a deep breath as the doctor sticks the needle into her arm and she turns to look at the posters on the wall instead. In the back of her mind, there’s a little black cloud, trying its best to grow bigger and bolder, insisting this won’t be over soon. Like there’s something around the corner, something bad, and that the little prickle of anxiety is right.

And the scariest part is that she can’t wave it off this time.


	2. Janis

It’s three days before Janis’ rest results are available. Her mom pops her head around her bedroom door and tells her they need to be at the hospital early the next morning. She had spent the intervening time lounging around her house, rotating through different sweaters and reading the same book over and over, all the while filling in Damian and Cady as much as she could, trying to reassure them and herself that it was nothing and in a few days she’d probably be fine. She’d be back bugging them in no time, probably by the first day of school, in fact.

And that better be true, she thinks, because she has never been so bored in her life. In those few days between appointments her biggest achievement was successfully showing her dad how to master Netflix and introducing him to Killing Eve. She had tried to draw, but no idea stayed still in her mind long enough for her to recapture it on paper. The pencil bounced between her hands as she looked through outlines of unfinished sketches, trying to make one jump out at her. She puts them all in her drawer with a resigned sigh, one of those impossibly rare moments where she willingly admits defeat and submits to her fate. Her body feels too weary to move and her brain completely burnt out, but her soul keeps pushing her to create, to be active and busy. Her hands weren’t meant for scrolling through her phone as she’s half asleep, they’re artists hands, built for innovation. The restlessness crept through her nerves and up to her brain, shaking it so much that when her mom hung up the phone and told her she had an appointment the next day, she threw her head back and thanked God.

But her initial relief is gone now as she and her parents follow the perky secretary’s directions down to the doctor’s room, passing sunshine yellow walls and hurrying over pristine white floors. She keeps her hands in her pockets, her heart clenching each time she catches a glimpse of a patient. Some of them smile, some of them don’t, some look normal and others… not so much, gaunt faces and loose headscarves. Wrong as it is, her anxiety only spikes when she sees them, not to mention her bedside manner isn’t the greatest. Perhaps it’s lucky her parents don’t set high goals for her because she’d never make a doctor.

Her dad keeps looking back at her, asking if she’s okay, and she tells him she is, even though her chest is pained and tight, either from worry or her own body’s weakness. Or worse, both. Her little personal storm cloud makes itself known again, desperate for her attention after she had put so much effort into ignoring it. It clings to her brain and strains against her skull, stretching over and whispering in her ear, telling her she should get used to this place. She might be seeing more of it than she wants to.

She closes her eyes tightly and stops walking for a second, wishing she could go back to a few days ago, lounging in bed with Cady when everything was normal and okay. But she can’t, so she jogs to catch up with her parents and keeps her eyes on her boots.

“Mr and Mrs Sarkisian.” The doctor they meet is around her dad’s age, brown hair beginning to grey with thick rimmed black glasses and wearing a funky green and blue tie over a white shirt. If he ditched the white coat and clipboard, he’d look like a dad. On his desk, amongst the paperwork and nameplate, is a Rubix cube, a framed photo of two kids and a stuffed frog chilling against the computer, wearing an oversized pair of sunglasses. Doctor Dad looks at Janis, his mouth opening and closing silently for a split second, a fearful glint in his eyes. Exactly what she needs. “And Janis, I assume.” She lets him shake her hand, not letting herself show how clammy it feels. His nerves sparks on the skin in a way only someone who has been through it could pick up on.

She’s been reading him since she first saw him and none of it puts her at ease. His smile looks like someone is pulling it across his face with wires and his eyes flash behind his glasses when he looks at her. His breathing hitches, his fingers fidget and when he sits down, she sees him pull himself back together, starting with the shoulders and up to the chin, straightening everything out, looking presentable. Approachable. Softening the blow he’s about to make. Maybe her parents take notice, or not. They’re specific things, only noticeable to those who are looking for them.

They do say ignorance is bliss.

“These… these types of conversations are never easy.” Oh, what a brilliant opening line. It makes her mom’s hand clasp her dad’s with a grip that’s white-knuckled and desperate. As for Janis herself, she squirms in her chair, biting down hard on her thumbnail. She feels like there’s a million little centipedes all over her body, scurrying around with their tiny feet, wriggling into her elbows, writhing beneath her knees, twisting around on her stomach. She could burst at any moment and they’d invade his office, bury themselves in his carpeting and make homes in the vents.

“Just give it to me straight, doc,” she blurts out. Her parents turn to her, more amused than surprised, and she offers a shrug, the beginnings of a smirk on her face. “Which might be hard in my case.” Her parents chuckle as she looks over at the doctor, herself getting a kick out of his own dumbfounded expression. “Because I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh, right,” he says, managing something that sounds like a laugh. He clears his throat and opens the file in his hand, blocking it from her view in a move that she isn’t sure is accidental. Pressure builds in her chest, her lungs feeling smaller and smaller inside her. The clock must be wrong, because it says only seconds have passed, but they’ve been there for far longer. Minutes. Hours, it must be. She grips the side of the plastic chair, drumming her nails along the underside and pressing her palm into the metal legs. Her mom rubs her hand down her back, asking quietly if she needs anything. She shakes her head, knowing ‘for this to be over’ probably isn’t a good answer.

“Janis… I’m afraid you have leukaemia.”

She’s falling.

Someone took her chair out from underneath her and she’s falling. She phases through the floor and keeps falling, her surroundings a silent blur. She tries to breathe but nothing can come in or out, her hand outstretched but no one holding it. She’s trapped in a bubble, one with no air or no sound, keeping everyone else away from her. She’s alone as she falls, nothing but the white expanse for company, her heart still, her mind empty. All she knows is she’s hurtling towards… something, at full speed and getting faster with each second.

“Janis!”

She blinks, the bottom of the chair cutting a deep, red line into her palms. But it’s steady beneath her, even if nothing else is. All at once, her body and mind come back to her, her heart beats faintly in her chest, weak from shock, and her breaths are quick and rapid. Her brain is a jumbled and confused mess, so much so that she preferred it when she couldn’t think of anything. Now her mind is opening ideas in a flash and tossing them out just as quickly; dashing around her head so thoughtlessly and rapidly that she can’t get a grip on anything. So instead she’s just sitting there, a ringing in her head and cold weakness in her chest, waiting for someone to fix this.

“Janis.” Her dad’s hand is on hers, his fingers curling around with a touch that’s so soft and gentle it almost doesn’t belong in here. Not with that word lingering between them. “Are you okay kid?”

How the hell is she meant to be okay?

“Leukaemia.” She drags her eyes up, not to meet the doctor, but to look past him, to look at the ugly shade of yellow his wall is painted and the framed certificate, declaring him as having graduated from somewhere with a degree in something. She bites her lip so hard she feels the beginnings of a little lump forming there. Like the ones on her neck. Like the ones they always say are a sign of…

The word sticks in her throat and she has to tear it out of her.

“Like… cancer? Like the cancer kind of leukaemia?”

“I’m afraid so,” the doctor says, his voice soft. She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard a voice that soft before, maybe when she was a kid, a really tiny kid and her goldfish died and her mom had to explain to her what death was.

Why did her mind have to go there?

It’s only now she notices one of the posters on the wall. Bright green lettering and a glossy photo of a little girl, fourteen, maybe thirteen, sitting up in a bed, a tube in her nose and a hat on her bald head, grinning brightly up a nurse with a sweet face. That’s what cancer is. It’s losing your hair and being in hospital and having tubes sticking in and out of your body. It’s other stuff too, stuff she hasn’t thought about and doesn’t know because it’s not for her. Cancer isn’t for her, it’s for old grandmas in knitted cardigans and tragic little kids who get to meet spiderman. Occasionally, it’s for teenagers and young people like her, but not her specifically. Never her. Cancer is something that exists far away, lurking around corners, on the tongues of adults who them about the dangers of cellphones or their health teacher telling them to eat healthily. It exists all right, but it doesn’t happen to her.

“Janis,” her mom says gently, running her fingers through her hair. Her voice is thin and shaking as though she’s about to cry. Why would she be crying? She’ll fix this. There’s no way this is real and now her mom is crying over nothing.

“I’m fine,” she replies, squeezing her mom’s hand back. Life comes back to her body and she looks up at the doctor, finally feeling heat inside her, attacking the cold emptiness and sending it back where it belongs. It flares up in her chest, a spark that she’d sorely missed these past few days. She grips her mom’s hand tighter, her own hand shaking and her fingers tight and tense. “I’m fine because I don’t have cancer.”

“Janis I know this is difficult to hear-”

“It’s not. It’s not because I am fine. Because I don’t have cancer, you did the test wrong.”

“Our team ran several tests. We ruled out other possibilities.”

“Clearly you didn’t if you’re telling me that I have cancer, which I don’t, so do another one.” Her grip on her mom isn’t just for her sake, but it’s also keeping Janis from getting up and flipping that desk over and telling Doctor Dad to get fucked. Who does he even think he is anyway? That degree can’t be much good if he’s telling her this and screwed up a test like that.

“Janis,” he sighs, gesturing with his hands like that’s going to fix anything. “I understand that this is a lot to take in right now-”

“It’s not,” she snaps, the smile on her face strained and sharp. “It’s not because you’re fuck-you’re wrong. I don’t-I can’t have-”

“Janis!”

Her mom’s voice is what pulls her back down. When she looks over at her, she sees brown eyes identical to hers, but they’re filled with tears and rimmed red and show a tiny spark of anger amongst the sadness. Her mom’s mouth is half-open, a plea waiting on her lips, begging her daughter to see sense. Her hand tightens around Janis’, her grip becoming less comforting and careful and more irritated and exhausted.

“Sweetheart… please.”

God she’s a horrible person. Her parents just heard probably one of the worst things a parent could hear, and she just threw a tantrum over it.

She looks at the doctor with uncharacteristic and unfamiliar shyness, trying to pick herself back up, present herself as anything close to reasonable after the meltdown she just had. Something about him makes her feel like he understands. Maybe she’s not the first to react like that. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking.

“So what happens now?” she asks in a flat voice.

“What happens now is you start treatment as soon as possible,” Doctor Dad explains. He leans forwards on his desk, his hands clasped together and when Janis notices the distressed expression on his face, the pain of guilt in her stomach only gets worse. “My colleagues have already discussed this and we think it would be best for you to begin within the next two weeks. The earliest start would be next Monday.”

“Next Monday?” she echoes, her voice cracking. “But… but I start school in three days I start before that, I can’t…” She knows it’s a lost cause and there’s no point to it, but it’s the last thing she has. Her school is the last part of her life that’s real in all this, so forgive her for clinging to it. She looks from her parents to the doctor, three different, grave expressions and only one is able to give her an answer.

“I’m afraid going to school will be out of the question,” the doctor tells her. Her mom’s fingers lace between hers, squeezing her hand in what’s meant to be comforting, but Janis can’t feel it. She’s too busy trying to push back another protest. “I’m sorry, Janis. There is the option of online school, but your treatment is likely to make you too tired to focus. It might be easier on your mental health if you saved school until next year.”

Saved school until next year. When everyone she knows is already gone and this year’s juniors will be seniors. She’ll have to wait a year for all the fun stuff that seniors get to do, cutting in the lunch line, going to prom, graduation parties, using the senior’s lounge. She’ll be sitting in a class of people she’s a year older than her, all in pre-formed friendship groups and likely knowing her as Cancer Girl. Cady, Damian, Karen, everyone else will be graduating this year and will move on to new adventures. And she’ll be left behind.

The idea makes her more sick than the cancer has.

“Jan?” her dad asks softly. She finds three pairs of expectant eyes on her and all she can offer is a small nod.

“Okay,” she whispers. She’s not sure what she’s saying okay to.

“What about the treatment itself?” her mom asks. “How is that going to work?”

“We might have to do a few more tests to find that out,” he explains. “But it would likely be chemotherapy. What we’ve discussed so far is two weeks in hospital and then a week at home to recover for around three months. Thankfully, the cancer hasn’t progressed far enough to warrant more, and we’ll want to keep it at that. The goal is to get Janis to remission.” She nods, her head starting to throb a little. She presses her fingers to her temples before she can stop herself, and that’s a red flag to both her parents. She drops it, muttering a lie about being fine.

“Of course there will be a lot of support for Janis through this,” he goes on. “There is an excellent support group and appointments can be made with a counsellor on a one-to-one basis.”

 _Somehow that doesn’t help, s_ he thinks. It’s not meant to, she guesses.

It’s cold when they step outside, or that might just be her. The wind cuts through her jacket and the sweater she pulled on and attacks her skin, leaving her fighting off shivers. She pushes her dad’s arm off her when he tries to help her to the car. That only makes her feel worse, mentally and physically.

Being in a car with your parents after a cancer diagnosis is a weird experience. The tension between the three of them strangles her. An unspoken conversation passes between her parents in the front and frankly, it pisses her off. If they’re going to be concerned about her, they could at least do her the courtesy of involving her. But maybe it’s better that way because despite being an arm’s length from them, she feels as though she’s miles away. Like when they started driving, she stayed put. She sinks back into the seat and stares straight ahead, the pain in her head coming back louder and stronger, pushing against her skull and screaming behind her eyelids.

“Janis… are you okay?” her mom asks.

“Fine,” she sighs.

“Do you need anything? We can go to the gas station-”

“I said I’m fine,” she replies, firmer than before. “I just want to lay down.”

She’s not kidding. She wants to press her face into her pillow until everything blacks out and all that exists is the colours that explode behind her eyelids. Then they can fade to, and she won’t have to deal with anything anymore.

They drive on in a heavy silence, and the longer they go, the angrier she finds herself growing. She doesn’t know where it’s directed, at herself or her parents or the doctor or the universe, but it’s there, rising in tandem with her the pain in her head and making her restless. She grabs her upper arm and squeezes hard, pressing her nails in until it starts to hurt, just to get it out somewhere.

“Hey… why don’t we go to Dairy Queen?” her dad suggests, as though they’re on their way back from mini golfing. It’s a sweet offer and Janis almost smiles at it. But it’s why it’s sweet that she doesn’t want it.

“I don’t want to,” she replies. “I just want to go home.” Besides, there is a real risk of her upchucking a milkshake on the seat.

Her parents exchange another worried look, their hands clasping over the gearshift, and Janis has to bite back a scream.

When they do finally get home, Janis doesn’t wait for them to get out of the car. Instead she storms ahead, regardless of how it hurts her head more, because she’s so damn relieved to be out of that care and in open space. She opens the door with her own key, remembering to leave it open for them. She runs into the hallway and then stops almost immediately, her chest tight and her breaths coming in short, quick gulps. Something rushes against her and grabs at her legs, and she takes a minute to work out that it’s Maxie, no doubt pouting at her and wondering what she was doing and where she was and why she didn’t take him. He’s probably whimpering or barking, and her dad is probably trying to talk to her, but she can’t hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears.

“Oh my God,” she says out loud. Everything she’s held back in the car bubbles over and she can’t hold it back any more.

She just about makes it to her room in time to throw herself on the bed and start screaming. She doesn’t even sound like a human. It’s deep and it’s guttural, tearing at her throat and painted with rage and pain and fear. Poor Maxie is probably hiding in his bed, scared of the monster upstairs. Her eyes, her face burns and her bedroom melts away, leaving just a mesh of dark colours bleeding together. Tears and snot run down her face and over her hands and on the pillows, making the mark of a miserable, self-pitying girl going insane.

Her head doesn’t just hurt any more, it’s screeching and kicking at her and she can’t do anything about it. She can’t do anything about anything. That’s the problem. Her chest aches and her neck hurts and her mouth is dry and her eyes burn. But all that’s nothing to what’s going on in her heart and head, where dangerous, toxic cocktails bubble. All she wants to do is not feel, but she feels everything and it’s all just pain.

She runs out of tears at one point and they dry on her face as she looks up at the ceiling, the word “cancer” written in invisible ink above her. She thinks “I might die” and then rolls her eyes at herself for being bleak. She wants to tell her all the good stuff about new treatments and technology and whatever but it’s all surface level nonsense. Fear wins over optimism and it cuts right into her, deep into her soul.

She doesn’t know what she’s most worried about and she’s an idiot for it. Not knowing if she’s more scared of the fatal disease wreaking destruction and chaos inside her body or of not getting to go to Cady’s Mathletes competitions or see Damian in the musical. It should be plainly obvious what’s the worse one, but it isn’t. Is this her now? Vapid and shallow, more obsessed with her petty teenage fun than her health? Was she always like this?

Her parents find her laying across her bed, unblinking, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only thing that indicate her being alive.

“How long ago did you guys wait?” she asks flatly.

“Two hours,” her dad explains, shifting on his feet. “We thought you’d need some space.” She nods numbly at that. “Janis… I know this is a lot to process for you.”

“Understatement of the century,” she mumbles. At least she’s still got humour. The bed sags and she sees her mom sitting next to her, her hand reaching out to stroke her hair. Janis can’t remember the last time her mom did that to her, not like this, with dainty fingers that could send her to sleep.

“We’re going to be here the whole time,” her mom promises. “You’re not doing this alone.”

She is though. That’s the problem. They’re not going to be the ones in the hospital beds and taking medicine and missing her senior year. She is. They’ll be beside her all they like, and she hopes to hell they are, but they aren’t going through it with her.

“I know,” is what she says instead. “I know.” She pulls herself to a sitting position, grabbing her mom’s shoulder as her room starts tilting. It takes a few seconds of deep, shaky breaths and her eyes shut tight before she feels normal again. “I’m okay.” She looks up at the two of them, overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness that makes her feel tiny despite her impressive height. “So what happens now?”

“We’ll take care of the official stuff,” her dad days softly, his arms wrapped around himself Holding himself together. “Letting the school know and all that. But… it might be better if you tell your friends.” She shakes her head on instinct. She can barely get that word out of her mouth on her own. In front of Damian or Cady, she knows she’d crumble.

“Sweetie,” her mom says. Her hand hasn’t stopped stroking her. “I know it’s hard. But they love you and they’re going to want to hear it from you. Not from us and not from the school either.” Janis presses her face into her knees, blinking away another wave of tears. They’re right. Of course they’re right. But that doesn’t mean that the idea of telling them makes her want to vomit.

Right now, only she, her mom, her dad and some doctors know. And she can pretend the doctors don’t exist and remove them from the equation. And when the only people who know are living in this house, it’s easier for her to pretend that it doesn’t really exist. She can push it away and ignore her parents and keep it inside these walls. Once she tells her friends…

It’s real. There’s no going back after that. Granted there’s no going back either way, but there’s no hiding either.

“Janis,” her mom agrees, sharking a look with her dad. “If it’s really too much for you… we can tell your friends for you.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “No, you’re right. They need to hear it from me.”

“Oh, baby,” her mom breathes, hugging her tightly around her shoulders. She’s not crying, but her breathing is ragged and her grip scared. “I’m so sorry. I wish this wasn’t happening to you.” Her dad sits on the other side of her and wraps his arm around her, letting her head on her head on his shoulder. The hug is clumsy and a little forced, no-one knowing when to let go and Janis quickly becomes uncomfortable in their embrace. The longer it goes on, the less like herself she feels.

She spends the rest of the day and most of the following morning looking at her phone, even when she’s eating or watching TV with her dad or playing with Maxie. Every gesture is half-hearted, the building sense of dread distracting her form everything else. She scrolls through the messages from yesterday, Cady asking how her appointment went and Damian asking if she was free and Gretchen asking her opinion on a shirt. All living in blissful ignorance.

It’s no contest as to who to tell first. She sits on her bed, Damian’s face looking up at her from the phone screen, one button all that separates the two of them. Just press a button. How hard can that be? Very hard, it turns out, when your arm feels like lead and you don’t even know what to say to him, your words written and crossed out and written again on the notebook beside you. The worst part is that she isn’t even sure what she’s scared of. There’s a lot to choose from and when it’s telling someone you love as much as she loves him, that only makes it worse. Like she’s on top of a skyscraper, about to be pushed off and into darkness. 

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and calls him.

“Hey,” he chirps on the other side, picking up after just one ring. She leans back on her bed, biting her nail, her heart ceasing beating altogether. In the back of her mind, she wonders if he’d been waiting for her. “What’s up?”

“Are you-can you come over?” she asks. “Are you free right now?”

“Uh yeah,” he replies. “Everything okay?” _No it’s not, the okay train left the station yesterday and I missed it and I’m about to pull you off it too._ “Janis… are you okay?”

“Just… how soon can you come over?” she says, moving from biting her nail to her knuckles. “It’s just… it’s kind of important and I don’t know if I can-”

“Woah, woah, woah, okay,” he replies. “Hey, my mom’s giving me a ride. I’ll be ten minutes, tops. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nods. “Thanks.” She’s not even sure if he heard that last word.

He’s seven minutes actually. Seven minutes between her hanging up the phone and the front door opening, her mom letting him in and telling him she’s up in her room. Every step closer only makes her stomach hurt worse and she prays she’s not headed for a panic attack.

“Hey.” His voice is gentle as he opens the door, stepping into her room cautiously, like she’s in the middle of a minefield. He must have picked up on the tension in her house; rather than draping himself across her bed or sitting on her desk, he lowers himself gently beside her, offering her a comforting smile. The same kind he gave her years ago when she was crying in a bathroom stall. God, she loves him. “Everything okay? You sounded nervous on the phone.”

“Because I was,” she confesses. Her hand wraps around Damian’s, him squeezing tightly, but she doesn’t feel the usual strength she gets from him. There’s just a cold, heavy weight in her stomach. “Oh God.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, confusion and compassion in his eyes. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she tells him. Her chest feels like someone is tying a rope around her lungs. The words battle from her mind to her mouth, weary and unwilling. “It’s about my… that doctor’s appointment I had. We found out-”

This is it. The point of no return. 

“Damian… I have cancer.”

Damian shakes his head a little, disbelief written all over his face. He keeps his eyes on her, waiting for her to laugh and tell him she’s kidding, almost willing it so. She wishes. Soon the doubt and hope melt away, his eyes turning sad and his mouth falling open, a small, strangled noise coming out as he realises she’s not kidding. As for her guilt tears her chest open and her face crumples. She begins to untangle herself from him, but he refuses, his arm in a firm grip around her shoulders. Maybe he wants to hold her or maybe he just can’t move, paralysed by what she dropped on him. The longer he goes without talking, the more it hurts her.

“What?” he asks eventually. “You… what?”

“Leukaemia,” she tells him as if that makes it better. He blinks, looking around the room like he’s searching for another answer.

“You have cancer?” he asks. She nods, exhausted from the two sentences she spoke, and he pulls her closer, her head falling onto his shoulder. Tears that aren’t hers fall onto her body and her own wet his shirt. His arms are weak around her as he tries to make sense of it. “How?”

“I don’t know how. It just happened,” she mumbles. “Karma, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Okay then let me talk to Miss Karma because this is… fu-this isn’t…”

“Go on. Say it,” she urges, a grin beginning to tug on her lips. “Just for me.” Maybe this will be the day Damian Hubbard finally says fuck.

“It’s fiddlesticks is what it is.” She laughs and it feels unfamiliar. He pets her hair in a steady rhythm, strength coming back into his body. “So what do you do now? Do you know? What even happens?”

“Okay.” She pulls away from him, seeing for the first time how red his eyes are. “I start… I start getting treatment next Monday.”

“Next Monday?” he interrupts. “But you can’t, we have school. We start school in two days!”

“Yeah I don’t think the cancer gives a shit,” she sighs heavily. “I’m just going to do senior year next year.”

“No,” he whispers, his face nothing short of heartbroken. Part of her is actually kind of weirdly flattered that someone cares so much. Most of her just feels worse every second for doing this to him. “But… we were going to… What about the LGBT society? I’m going to have to run it by myself?” He rakes a hand through his hair and looks over at her. His mouth falls open and his hand drops to his lap. “Oh God I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“For making this about me,” he says. “This is about you.”

“Oh please, the other half of your soul has cancer, you can be a little self-centred,” she says.

“Who said you’re the other half of my soul?” he jokes.

“You did.” She lifts the half-heart around her neck, the twin to the one around his. He smiles sadly, his eyes glistening. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, holding on to the only trace of familiarity. “Besides, the club will survive without me. You can always get Cady to do it. I’m sure she’d love something for her college application.”

“Oh my God, Cady,” he says.

_Why did she bring up Cady?_ she thinks as another wave of sadness crashes over and drowns her.

“Have you told her?” She shakes her head, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“How could I?” she says. “You’re… you’re one thing. Cady’s another.” She leans her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “I don’t know how to do that to her.” Damian hums in understanding. He doesn’t need to ask what she means. He saw her at her absolute worst five years ago, at her most scared and angry and broken. He’s seen everything there is to her and it hasn’t pushed him away. Cady thinks she’s seen the bad, but that’s just scratching the surface. While she heard how it was back then, Damian lived and breathed it.

What she has with Cady is perfect, far too perfect to be scarred by something like this.

“You know… I could tell her for you,” he offers. “If it’s too much for you.”

“No,” she cuts him off, opening her eyes. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You’re not making me do anything,” he tells her. She nods, but the conversation ends there. Of course he’d do that for her. He’s the most loyal person she’s ever met, worthy of the Hufflepuff badge on his backpack. He’d move Heaven and Earth for the people he loves, especially in their hour of need. Or months of need, she guesses is her case now. He deserves endless happiness and love and joy, and an amazing senior year.

Seconds pass in silence before she croaks out “I’m sorry”.

“Did you just apologise for having cancer?” he asks. He shifts and tilts her head to make her look at him, his hands cupping her face and his eyes severe. She’s never seen him like this before, completely serious, devoid of jokes or laughter, and it makes her nervous. “Janis Catherine Sarkisian, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologise for this. This isn’t because of you. This is because… I don’t know. But it’s not you.”

“Okay.” She covers his hands with hers, her breath catching. His thumbs wipe at her wet cheeks and she wonders what she did to deserve him. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Good.” His voice cracks and two tears race each other down his cheek landing in his lap. He takes a heavy, shaking breath before continuing. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine.”

“Of course you’d say that,” she mumbles, their clasped hands now sitting between them.

“You will be,” he says again, a fierce determination shining on his face. “Even if I have to go in there and physically fight that cancer myself.”

“You’d win,” she tells him, sniffling. They sit in the quiet, letting the weight of her news settle over both of them, a new and terrifying reality looming in front of them. Then she reaches out and pulls him into a hug; her arms wrapped around him, her head in the crook of his neck. As he hugs her back, she can feel the anxiety in his touch and how his touch is far more careful now. Like she’ll break if he holds her too much. But there’s also courage in there and above all, so much tenderness and it makes her heart grow and almost burst out of her stone cold chest.

“I love you,” she whispers against his shirt.

“I love you too,” he replies, ferocity in his voice, and Janis is struck by just how grateful she is that her best friend is Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi y'all! comments and kudos would be fetch!
> 
> hope you're all staying safe and sensible in these scary times x
> 
> And if you can, please take a look at this page where you can find petitions, donation pages and educational resources linked to Black Lives Matter: https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/# Please consider making a donation, signing a petition or taking a look at other resources <3


	3. Janis

It’s an hour before Damian leaves. An hour of him hugging her and stroking her hair and her telling him everything she can. They try to spend some time normally, watching vine compilations on Janis’ phone, only it doesn’t feel right. Their laughter is forced and accompanied by a pit in Janis’ stomach, the hard reality staring them in the face. After one video she puts her phone away and Damian holds her tighter, resting his cheek on her head and lacing their fingers together. She lets herself sag against him, revelling in the comfort he gives her even if it can’t make this better. She bites the inside of her cheek as she wonders when the next time they hug like this will be or where they'll be when it happens.

It’s going to be a long few months.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asks him as they stand at her front door. “With all this?” When his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s when she truly feels the weight of it and it drags her down hard. She’s only seen that expression on his face a grand total of three times, two of which related to unpleasant memories of his father. And now once more, because of her. She bites back an apology.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he replies half-heartedly before shaking his head. “Who am I kidding? Of course you’re going to be okay. You’re Janis.”

“I am?” she replies, smirking just a little.

“Yeah.” The crack in his voice doesn’t escape her notice. He play-punches her arm. “This cancer’s going to have a tough time trying to beat you.”

“If God wants me gone he’s going to have to come down here himself,” she jokes. Only it doesn’t land with him. His eyes widen, his hand around her wrist in a grip that’s sudden and panicked. It’s an old joke spoken in a new world and she realises that too late. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t-” She grabs his tense shoulder, unsure of what else to do, and tries to be as reassuring as possible. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay, they’ve said I will.”

“I know.” He hugs her once again, crushing her in her grip and stroking her hair, his heartbeat fast against her chest. She wraps her arms around him, cursing at herself.

“Maybe the dark humour will take a backseat for now,” she whispers. He laughs at that at least, even if it’s short lived. He steps away from her just as his mom pulls up outside of her house, beeping her little car horn.

“My mom,” he says, looking from the car to her. “When do I tell her?”

“Whenever you want,” she replies, shrugging. “Not like we’re keeping it a secret.”

“Okay.” He pats her cheek clumsily as she opens the door. Before leaving, he takes one long look back at her, sadness clouding his eyes. She doesn’t let him know that she hates it. “You owe me a calzone when this is all over, Sarkisian.”

“It’s a date,” she jokes, her breath catching in her throat. Through the window in the door, she watches him run across the road, holding up shirt up over his head as the sky starts spitting, and climb into the passenger seat of his mom’s car. Her vision blurs as the car pulls away, her cheeks hot and her jaw clenched.

She doesn’t bother to hide it when she walks into the kitchen. She’s too tired and even if she wasn’t, what’s the point in it?

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom sighs, rushing up to her and pushing her hair out of her eyes. She rubs a hand up and down her arm, her lips rolled into a thin line. “How did he take it?”

“Fine,” she says. “I mean, not fine. But he’s… It’s a lot for him. But he didn’t storm out of the house or accuse me of lying or something messed up like that so I guess…” She trails off, the sentence running away from her. Is there a good way to take news like this? If there is, it would have been nice for her to know yesterday.

“Why don’t I make you something?” her mom asks again. “You want some coffee? Tea? Or one of those little mug-cakes you like so much?”

“I can make it myself,” she tells her, already tempted. She breaks out of her mom’s grasp and starts pulling stuff out the cupboards, the recipe crystal clear in her mind. She turns around, equal parts amused and annoyed at her mom hovering behind her. “I’m not going to burn myself on the microwave, Mom.”

“I know. Just, well, maybe you should be sitting down?”

“I can do it myself,” she repeats, despite her tired legs. She looks over at her again, annoyance beginning to win out. She spoons flour into her mug, white smoke puffing up before her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Besides I’m the only one who knows how to make them.”

They were Cady’s idea. Over the winter break last year, before it all truly went wrong, she had called Janis about this new recipe she stumbled upon on Pinterest, babbling excitedly about ‘little tiny cakes in mugs, how cute is that, Janis?’. She invited Janis over, insisting on testing out as many different recipes as her microwave would allow. There was something about the sight of Cady with a white handprint on her skirt and flour dusted across her nose like snowflakes that did certain things to Janis’ heart. She can’t be sure, but that might just have been the day she began seeing Cady in a new light and daring to imagine them as something other than friends.

The memory now only makes her heart clench. There are few things Janis loves in the world more than Cady Heron’s smile and nothing hurts her heart like when she’s sad. When her lips touched hers for the first time, she swore she’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s going to be breaking that promise tomorrow, even if it’s through no fault of her own.

She goes up to her room with a mumbled goodnight to her parents and an unexpected, quick hug from her dad. Maybe she should start expecting them, she thinks sadly as she trudges upstairs, one hand around her mug and the other gripping the bannister.

She curls up on her bed, too tired to sit up but too jittery to try to sleep. Besides, the sky is still orange out there and she refuses to go to sleep before the sun does. Despite herself, she feels strangely proud. Cancer or no, her sleep schedule is hers, at least to some extent.

She pulls her laptop over, squinting in its blue light, and opens Tumblr for a while, scrolling through likes and reblogs without any of it registering. She bounces through social media with twitching fingers, closing tabs not five minutes after opening them. Facebook is the worst; little green dots lined up at the side of her screen, each one able to contact her with the press of a key. The last thing she wants right now is a conversation. So she opens Twitter instead and lets the friends be mixed in with the strangers. She’s hidden as long as she doesn’t say anything and she has genuinely no intention to. No likes, no retweets, nothing but a stream of content she can half-focus on in a bid to forget herself.

It works, at least for a while, three jokes or art pieces for every “real person” who crosses her timeline. But her eyes are constantly drawn up to the searchbar against her will and when a post of Cady’s crosses her path, her eyes linger for longer than they should.

“Fuck it,” she mutters, typing her handle into the searchbar and tapping her nail against the mouspad. She’s not as strong as she looks, and recently she’s discovered that she’s really not that strong when it comes to her girlfriend.

Cady’s profile loads up on the screen, her profile picture of her hugging a lion at least putting a smile on her face. Cady rarely uses this, having only gotten it at Regina’s request and preferring to use platforms like Instagram, uncomfortable with Twitter’s character limit. 280 characters is barely enough to capture those beautiful thoughts of hers. But Janis scrolls through them anyway, not quite having realised how much she missed her until now, missed how she talks and thinks and the feel of her hand against hers. Scrolling through her Twitter is a poor substitute for having the real thing.

There’s a post from five days ago, of the two of them sitting in Cady’s backyard, her chin on Janis’ shoulder and Janis’ hand covering hers, the remains of ice cream around Cady’s chin. Cady’s mom had taken that on her daughter’s phone, the two of them lounging in Cady’s garden after she had been showing Janis her peonies.

Janis is almost taken aback by how she looks. She knows how she felt, exceedingly happy, dangerously close to in love and a little intoxicated, but also exhausted. Even though everything felt perfect and all she could ever want, in the back of her mind she was thinking about going home and collapsing into bed. Her skin crawls as she knows why she felt like that. The girl in the photo with the sparkling eyes and beaming smile has cancer. Her body was-is- falling apart bit by bit and she was none the wiser, enjoying summer sunshine and thinking about nothing other than how much she adores her girlfriend. How would she react if she knew that in a few short days, her life would be ruined?

She curses as she wipes away a tear. Hasn’t she cried enough for today?

She opens up a search engine, fear building in her chest, the hair on her arms standing up despite the warm air. She sits and watches the blinking cursor, the only sound in the room being the soft whirring of the laptop and her heavy, deep breathing. She doesn’t want to know, not at all. Knowing will only make it worse. She should just turn this thing off and toss it away before she does something she regrets. That’s what reason says.

She doesn’t listen to reason. Instead she listens to the one part of her brain that won’t shut up.

She types _effects of cancer on relationships_ into the searchbar and closes her eyes tightly. If she can’t see the results, they don’t exist, right?

A high school senior using middle school logic. What’s become of her?

She clinks on the first link, squirming at the images that load in pieces on her screen. Hands clasped over a wooden table, two people looking into each other’s eyes with sincerity and sadness on their features. She’s never been good with emotions like that. Which is why she pushes them away, she supposes. Even the idea of sitting down carefully and Having A Conversation in hushed voices about such delicate, difficult subjects makes her want to vomit. Today was hard enough. Her parents are just lucky she loves them too much to do that.

She scrolls past sections about family and friends until the word ‘partner’ catches her eye and she stops. According to the article _“cancer can be a difficult thing for couples to face”_ (yeah no shit) _._ Little Miss Psychology who wrote the thing goes on to explain that _“this can manifest in changing roles in the relationship”_ which again, no shit. The more she reads the article, the more she feels her time being wasted. There’s nothing she couldn’t already guess and most of it is for married couples with kids. Who’s going to take the kids to school, who’s going to pay the bills, who’s going to make dinner? Nothing that concerns her, nor should it for a long time.

She reads that cancer has a negative effect on their sex lives, and actually laughs. Sex was the last thing on her mind.

Then, near the bottom, it shifts from the practical to the emotional. Miss Psych explains that cancer can often cause _“an inability to do leisure activities”_ and while that should have been obvious to Janis, it screws with her more than a little. Sure, she and Cady have quiet time in one of their rooms, but it’s always balanced by doing something else, trips to the mall or the movies, or going down to the zoo to see Cady’s beloved lions or the museum so Cady can watch Janis get lost in the art world. It’s the being with each other that makes it special, but going out like this keeps everything interesting for both of them. What do they become when that disappears?

With a shuddering breath, she pushes on, reading about how miscommunication can happen in relationships when this happens. Cady trying to keep positive could become dismissals in Janis’ eyes, or Janis keeping a mask up for Cady only leading to them stopping talking. And miscommunication is always the first step, according to Damian. Out of his three relationships two ended because they stopped communication.

And finally, _“cancer can be a destabilising force for most relationships”._ It’s one of the first things she sees and it’s the last thing she needs to see. There’s a lot she loves about her life now, or at least her life post-Spring Fling, and one of those is how solid it is. Steady friendships, or semi-steady in some cases, and a comfortable romance with Cady. For the first time in a long, long while she was happy without even trying to be.

She closes her eyes and turns onto her side, pressing her hand to her stomach. What must it look like in there now? According to the doctor, her body is producing more white blood cells and they can’t function and then something about her organs. While she should know better, the image of her blood turning white attacks her mind, something like white paint spreading through her veins and attacking her organs, turning them pale and hard and frozen. Maybe once it was done with her body it would bleed through her skin and show on the surface. Her body could become a statue from the inside out. Maybe if she stabbed herself right now, she’d bleed cold and white instead of red.

She shoots up, shaking the image from her head. Her heart is unsettled in her chest but she takes comfort in it, wild and erratic and alive. She pushes all thoughts of what’s happening to her out of her head, trying to replace them with anything else.

Unfortunately for her, the only anything else she can think of is Cady. Her only two options are her debilitating body or her debilitating love life.

Well, it’s not debilitating. Not really. Not yet anyway. Well, except for the fact that she hasn’t texted Cady back in two days. She’s not left her on read, but she’s no doubt left her worried. She’s always worrying, her Cady. Worrying that there’s enough food for everyone or that everyone at her place is having a good time or that her two friend groups will get along.

What will this do to her?

She opens her laptop again, fully aware of how destructive she’s being. But her mind won’t rest and checking the internet is just as good a plan as any. The article is still there when she opens it, the white light making her head hurt. Her stomach hurts more and more as she looks through the web and she’s sure it’s not because of the illness or the hastily-made mug cake.

 _“Cancer can be incredibly straining on the patient’s relationships,”_ the article tells her. _“Often the patient will find it difficult to be a supportive and loving partner with the toll the illness takes on them.”_

That’s the part that really sends her flying. The phone falls from her weak hands as anxiety takes over her body, making her hands shake and her chest tighten. She pushes the laptop away and pulls her legs close to her chest, pressing her forehead into her knees as she counts her breath, in for eight and out for eight.

Dumb as it sounds, she likes being someone’s girlfriend. She likes making people, particularly people she cares about, feel happy and warm and loved. It makes her feel worth something. Despite the front she presents to the world, she cares. She cares for fuck’s sake.

Cady deserves a girlfriend who supports her. One who is devoted to her and makes her life easier. Cady went through a lot last year, she wasn’t innocent in it at all, but she went through a lot. So many times she’s told Janis she’s excited to go back to school this year and just be normal. To study with her and walk to school with her and be her prom date.

‘Last year was like a shark tank,’ she had explained to her as they sat in the park, her head in Janis’ lap. ‘Next year I just want to float.’

The sharks might be gone, but Janis is bringing a whole tsunami.

It isn’t fair. None of it is, her parents have told her as much, but now it’s really not fair. Not to her and not to Cady. After a less than great first year, she deserves a better chance at real school life. She should have a girlfriend escorting her to prom, an old fashioned date-on-your-arm type of affair. They should dance under a glitter ball together while Janis whispers words of affection into her ears.

And then there’s the school side of school. Cady has so many college plans, big and lofty ones that require months and months of work. What will Janis be then? A distraction? Or worse, a burden. She’d never dream of demanding anything from her, but what if she can’t help it? Or if she doesn’t need to because Cady focuses on her anyway? What if she’s the reason Cady doesn’t make it? Her job as Cady’s girlfriend is to be her support system, her rock. If she can’t do that then what’s the point in them being together? Why should she have a girlfriend if she can’t give her everything every day?

It’s only when she finds her toy kitten twisted and wrung in her hands that she realises she’s spiralling.

“Breathe,” she whispers to herself. “Come on, breathe.”

Her mind clears as her heart slows down. Her worries don’t go away, but she can see them more precisely than before. She leans her head back against the wall, letting the air rush out of her. There is a solution to her problem, but it’s not one she likes. She guesses what she wants went out the window when her blood started acting like a dick.

After all, the best way not to hurt Cady with this is to just not be her girlfriend, right?

“You’re a moron,” she sighs, shaking her head. She stretches her arms and starts tugging on her pyjamas, tiredness taking over and dragging her eyelids down. She shuts off her laptop, avoiding even a glimpse at the article, and shoves it under her bed. In the quiet of her dark room, she can hear her parents murmuring downstairs and wonders, probably with good reason, if they’re talking about her. They talk about her a lot more than they used to. Years ago, Janis lay in this same bed listening to the same thing; anxious, inaudible conversations about her between people who thought she was asleep. Only thing is now, it hurts more. Guilt only gets worse with age. She drifts off slowly, her stuffed cat pressed into her chest, one thought coming together in her hazy mind.

She’s already hurt the three most important people with this. Can she really hurt Cady too?

*****

Her room is still dark when she jolts awake. Her eyes sting and she blinks heavily out of tiredness as well as getting used to the darkness. She knows why she’s awake before she even looks down or can feel anything. There’s only one reason she’d have woken up this early.

She switches on the light and finds her legs covered in sweat, small dark splotches on the sheets. Her top clings to her stomach and her hair to her neck, a feeling that’s uncomfortably and frustratingly familiar.

Her clock reads 4:30am. Groaning, she kicks her covers off and stumbles to the bathroom, rubbing at her bleary eyes.

Avoiding her reflection, she holds a cold cloth against her skin, her damp shirt handing over the edge of the bathtub. She can’t help asking herself, what if she had noticed this before? What if she had brought it up to her parents? She had just shrugged it off as nothing before. If she hadn’t, would they have caught it in time? Maybe this would be over sooner, maybe it would have been over already. If she had just paid more attention, she might be happy now.

She makes eye contact with her reflection, and the words ‘stupid girl’ ghost across her mind like the other her had whispered them.

“New level of self-deprecation,” she mutters, running the cloth under the cold faucet. “Blame yourself for… this.”

She settles herself in the bathtub and presses the cloth into her stomach and another to her neck, debating with herself if she should go get some ice from the kitchen. Ever the drama queen. She rubs at her heavy eyes, thankful that she has no plans for tomorrow. All her plans are cancelled for the foreseeable future, but at least there’s the silver lining of letting her sleep for longer. Karen must be rubbing off on her if she’s looking for the good parts now.

She’s almost nodding off in the bathroom, until the door open and her dad calls her name, shocking her awake and nearly giving her a heart attack on top of everything else.

“Dad!” she whispers sharply, stumbling out of the bathroom. Her dad’s eyebrows are shot up his forehead, his mouth hanging open a little as he looks at her with more alertness than she reckons he had a minute ago. He looks from the cloth in her hand to her damp shirt, confusion etched onto his features. “Dad I was just… I started sweating. I just needed to sponge off.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you… do you need any-”

“It’s fine.” She drops the cloth in the sink and moves to brush past him. “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Woah, woah, Janis,” he says, his fingers curling around her arm and his other hand on her chest. She stops where she is, avoiding his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head. “No I’m okay. I just need to go back to bed.” Her dad nods and brushes her sticky hair away from her face.

“How long as this been going on?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “A few weeks, I think. It’s not every night. I think it’s a side effect of the… of you know…”

“Ah,” is all he says. There’s an air of discomfort neither of them can brush off.

“I’m fine, really,” she says, pulling his hand off her as gently as she can. She dares look up at his face for a minute, the two of them feigning composure of the other. “I’m done. You can use it.”

“Do you need anything?” he asks again. “New clothes, some water?”

She shakes her head, even though her throat is painfully dry.

“I can get new PJs in my room,” she tells him instead. “Good night, Dad.”

“Bonne nuit, petite fille,” he whispers in his native French. Although it’s short-lived, she manages a smile.

Back in her room, she pulls off her shorts and tosses them away. She may well run out of pyjama shorts thanks to this. After a second’s thought, she tosses her t-shirt away too and pulls on another one that’s a little too big for her. As she slides into her bed, she wishes her dad hadn’t mentioned water. Even though her throat cracks and she holds back dry coughs, she won’t ask for more than she has.

When she’s half asleep though, her door slowly opens, and when she wakes more minutes later, there’s a full glass on her night stand. It makes her smile, and it lasts longer this time around.

*****

Hours later, she wakes stiff and sore and nowhere near as refreshed as she should be waking this close to noon. As she curls into a ball and presses her face into the pillow, a wave of self-pity crashes into her chest and fills her lungs. Self-pity is probably her least favourite feeling out of all of them. Anger is an old friend and can be righteous and satisfying. She resists sadness more, but at least that can be reflective and healing. What does self-pity do for her? Doesn’t give her an outlet, doesn’t change anything. She just sits there and wallows in it, hating it more and more with each second until the anger wins out and she throws the covers off.

She leaves her phone switched off for as long as she can. She shuns technology entirely except for the TV, looking at the screen blankly with Maxie in her lap. Even her dog seems to know something’s wrong, either with her body or her mind. He presses his head into her stomach and looks up at her, eyes bright and wide and heart-meltingly cute, all the while whimpering quietly, his little paws tickling her stomach. Janis kisses his nose and it makes her feel a little better.

She goes up to her room and starts getting dressed, not wanting to spend the rest of her day in pyjamas. She’ll probably be doing that a lot a few weeks down the line. Possibly a few days down the line, she realises. Her shirt in her hands, she looks over at the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow is circled in red glitter pen and a little skull drawn in the box, _‘senior year’_ written in black glitter pen above it. She wrote that weeks ago, end of July or beginning of August, back when it mattered.

The school knows now. Her parents called them up and told her the day after they found out. Janis, against her better judgement, sat against the bannister upstairs and listened in on it. There wasn’t a whole lot to listen to on her end; just a lot of ‘thank you’s and reiterations of what they’d been told in the hospital. What she would have given to have been a fly on the wall on the school’s end though. To hear every word about how sorry they were and the endless support they were offering to Janis and judge how much they meant it. North Shore’s not a bad place, especially since the end of Spring Fling. There are worse schools. But that doesn’t mean she trusts it. Trust is easy to eradicate and hard to win back.

Regardless, they’ll tell everyone tomorrow. They have to. It might be in a special assembly, or during morning announcements. Maybe they’ll take her friends out of class one by one and break the news to them gently. Or just assume they already know. They’d be a quarter right in that case.

Her phone is still dead on her nightstand. She picks it up the way you’d pick up a live grenade and holds it gingerly in both of her hands. Her reflection stretches before her in the screen like a funhouse mirror. She’s not felt quite so afraid of her phone since she was 12, but now she’s not scared of what people would say to her. The opposite really.

She turns it on after an eternity and places it on the floor until it stops buzzing. One message from Damian, asking how she’s feeling and if she wants to hand out, followed by a yellow heart. Three from Cady, one good morning text, one photo of her hamsters and one asking if she’s okay. It’s harsher than anything she’s seen from her before and the worst part is she has a feeling that’s only the beginning. It’s still polite and careful, asking Janis to talk to her “whenever she’s ready”.

That may take a while, Cady.

Her chin rests on her knees, her nails digging into the sides of her legs and her jaw tightly clenched. Her breaths are long and shallow. She’s not exactly a stranger to difficult conversations. Between coming out and telling them about Regina and telling her parents she wants to major in art, she could make a walk of fame of them if she really wanted to. But none were like this. They could all end in good things and they all did. Nothing good could come of this, not for her and certainly not for Cady.

She dials the number slowly, despite having never dialled a number in her life. Like if she takes longer, she’ll get a better idea. Or this will all end if she waits long enough.

Shouldn’t she know better now, she thinks as she presses call.

“Hi!” Cady picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath, like she’d ran to pick it up. She can almost picture her just from the sound of her voice; brown eyes wide, maybe twirling the ends of her hair. Or sitting on her bed, her hand buried in a pillow and feet anxiously tapping the floor. She hates herself and this isn’t even the worst part. “Um, hey, how are you?”

There’s a tiny spark of warmth in Janis’ chest, in amongst all the fear. She’s missed her voice so much.

“Um, yeah,” she replies, aware she’s not actually answering her. “No I’m-I’m good.” As her mouth runs dry, she starts worrying if she is even able to talk right now. Near silence stretches between them, broken only by Cady shifting on the other line and her parents talking below her. As she tries to find something, the idea of just hanging up and throwing out her phone crosses her mind and she can’t quite dismiss it.

“Did you go to your hospital appointment?” she asks, a calm tone taking over her voice. “How was it?”

“Oh,” is all she can muster up. “It was…” Horrible. The worst day of my life. Ruined my life. I wish it had never happened. I haven’t been happy since. “Fine, I guess.”

“So you found out what was wrong?” she asks. The question forms a rope, tightening around her neck.

“Yeah. It’s not important.” Just slightly life-altering. She lets go of her wrist, shaking out of her cold hand. She flexes her fingers, words coming out of her mouth thoughtlessly. “I need-I need to talk to you.”

“Okay. Should I… should I be worried?”

Yes.

“I don’t know,” she replies. She pushes herself to her feet, legs shaking, and pulls her sweater around herself. She bites hard on the inside of her cheek. Her main priority out of this is Cady not hearing her cry. “Caddy…”

She closes her eyes and mouths a silent apology before continuing.

“Caddy, I think we need to take a break.”

Cady stammers on her end, nonsensical, meaningless sounds that do nothing but fill empty space. Janis bites into her fist as tears begin running down her face. It builds up in her chest instead and it aches. Is this heartbreak? Is this what they mean when they say it? She’d always taken it metaphorically. Turns out it’s literal.

“Take a break?” Cady echoes. “Janis I don’t-what do you mean take a break.”

“I mean-” She takes a deep breath, hoping that the sniffle sounds like allergies. “I mean, we’re going into our senior year, Cady. That’s a lot. You’re looking at math college, I’ve got a lot to do for art school, I think it’s best if we-if we just pause it.”

She can’t hold it back. She puts the phone on the bed, the covers blocking any sound and presses her face into a pillow, letting herself cry into the fabric. It’s not much, just enough to let herself breath again. It doesn’t stop hurting or even hurt any less, but she can speak again.

“Janis? Janis are you still there?” Cady asks, muffled by her covers. “Janis?” She picks it up and throws herself off the bed, walking in a continuous circle.

“Yeah I’m here,” she says, her throat raw. “Sorry Maxie was being a dick.” She crosses her fingers behind her back.

“Janis I just want-I just want to understand,” she says. Her own voice shakes a little and it’s a knife against her ear. She’s probably pacing the room, a frown on her lovely face. Janis slaps herself on the cheek like she can slap the image out of her mind. “Janis we can make this work. Loads of people date in senior year-hell, Karen and Gretchen are. Aaron was a senior year-”

“You’re going to use Regina and Aaron as an example of couple goals?” she snorts, an unkind edge in her voice that tastes vile on her tongue. Hurting Cady is more painful than the cancer will ever be, yet a part of her wonders that if she’s a bitch now, this will end faster.

Thankfully, she still has some integrity.

“That’s different,” Cady huffs. “That’s Regina. You and me… we’re you and me.” There’s a long sigh on the other end and Janis can imagine her rubbing her forehead like when she’s debating a math problem. “Janis lots of couples date in senior year. Rachel Hamilton was still with her girlfriend last year. They’re still together now. And I know-I know you’re worried about stuff, I’m worried about stuff, but if we stay together at least we can-”

“Cady!” She jumps at her own voice. She’s never heard herself as sharp as she was just there. Her voice echoes around her and cuts her skin. She lowers herself onto the bed again, her limbs weak. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cady assures her. She doesn’t deserve this level of gentle. Not from her. “It’s okay let’s just talk this out. Maybe we could get Damian-”

“No.”

“You’re right. Bad idea,” she says lightly. “Look Janis, we’re all stressed about senior year. But we don’t need to jump to anything yet, right? We can just take it easy and if it gets too much-”

“It’s already too much,” she replies. She’s not lying. Cady just doesn’t know. “Cady I’m sorry but it’s already too much. I can’t deal with a relationship now. It’s- it’s not you.” Her nails dig into her palm. “There’s just too much happening in my life for a girlfriend now. I mean, I didn’t think it would last as long as it did.”

“You didn’t?” And if pain were a sound, it would be Cady’s voice. Breathless and cracking, the two words shaking. If she had punched her right in the face it would have hurt less than what she just said.

Congratulations, Janis. You just did exactly what you wanted to avoid.

“Not like that,” she whispers pathetically. “Just… I think it’s best for both of us if we end it here.”

“Okay.” There’s a finality in that one word, a line drawn under everything they had these past months. Nothing could have prepared Janis for this. “Okay fine. If that’s what you want, then fine. We can end it here. I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe.”

“Thank you.”

She’s not sure if Cady heard the end of that. The dial tone rings in her ear, loud and unending. She keeps it there because in a weird way it’s like keeping Cady there.

She got what she wanted, didn’t she? After all, why should she be Cady’s girlfriend right now when she can’t be what she needs? This is all for the best, isn’t it? Now Cady can focus on school with minimal distraction and Janis can go through this without dragging more people down with her.

“Fuck that,” she says in a low voice. Her chest rumbles as her breathes suddenly get quicker, her fingers curling inside and out. Fuck that. It’s not what she wanted, not at all. She wanted a senior year with Cady. For her to slap Janis away as she tries to distract her from homework. To greet her with hugs in the mornings and hold hands with her in the afternoon. Her visions fall apart in front of her and roll away, stopping her from building even a daydream to keep her going. Her nails scratch at her scalp as she pulls on her hair, a dull throbbing rising in time with the dial tone’s steady beeping. As she bites down on her cheek, she doesn’t know if she’s imagining the metallic taste in her mouth, if it’s blood or just her own cocktail of anger and shame and grief.

It keeps building inside her, rising like a tidal wave and filling her lungs, her mouth, her ears. Much like the hard conversations, these feelings aren’t new to her, rage and anxiety are long-time companions. Lately she’s started turning to the people around her when she’s feeling like this, heaving learnt the value of a support system, but her parents are busy enough and she can’t face Damian with this and drive a wedge between him and Cady who is incidentally the person she wants to talk to the most but she doesn’t have Cady anymore because she just broke up with her and Cady doesn’t even know why, and all Janis has is that stupid ringing dial tone-

“Oh shut up!” she yells, chucking her phone across the room. It bounces against the wall with an audible ‘thump’ and falls to the floor. At least the ringing stops. She her head hits the mattress, bouncing a little before going still. The ringing from the phone has entered her head instead and has seemingly no intention of leaving no matter how tightly she closes her eyes or how hard she covers her ears. Her nails leave indents on her skin and her fingers tangle in her unbrushed hair.

“Janis?” She doesn’t even hear her door opening above the noise in her head. Her mom hesitates as she enters, unease evident in her hunched shoulders and flitting eyes. “Janis I heard you yelling-”

“I’m fine.” The words are dull and heavy and hold no semblance of truth. She forces herself to look over at her mom. At least her eyes are dry. “I just talked to Cady.”

“Oh, baby,” she sighs sympathetically. The bed sags as she sits down, her hand covering Janis’. “I’m sorry hon. I know that can’t have been easy.” She just nods, a heavy weight pressing into her chest. She doesn’t cry and wonders if she’s used up all her tears in the past two days. Her mom’s hand moves in a small, gentle motion on her shirt; it’s comforting to her and it soothes her frantic mind. So why doesn’t she like it?

“Mom,” she begins. “No offence but I… I just want to be alone.” She can’t miss the sadness in her mom’s eyes no matter how hard she tries. The hand grows slower and lifts from her back. “I’m sorry, just-”

“It’s okay, Jan,” she says, pushing herself up. She stands over her, the picture of the doting mother. “We’re just downstairs if you need anything.”

“Mom.” Janis manages to push herself up by a mere fraction. Her mom halts right where she is, turning around so quickly she should be accompanied by a whooshing sound effect. She also can’t miss how bright her eyes are, ready to attend to whatever Janis needs. “Um… can you pass me my phone? It’s… it’s on the floor there.”

The request is so tiny and not at all suited to her mom’s hyper-focus. Not to mention how weak and pathetic her voice sounds. It doesn’t belong to her body, her towering frame that even cancer can’t take away from her. Her mom nods, smile on face, and hands it over to her.

“I… I threw it across the room,” she admits, gesturing with her chin. “At the wall.”

“That’s okay,” her mom says. Something about the careful tone doesn’t sit right with Janis, but she’s too drained to care. “If it’s broken we can just get you a new one, okay?” Her hair moves against the fabric of the covers as she nods. “See you later, kid.”

When her mom leaves, the door stays open slightly, no doubt on purpose. She doesn’t have the energy to get up and close it.

Tomorrow should have been the first day of her senior year. Instead it’s the first day for everyone but her. They’ll all be preparing for the unknown, but while her friends prepare for SATs and college choices, she’ll be preparing for IVs and blood tests. They won’t want to get out of their beds, and she’ll be confined to hers.

Janis rolls onto her side, her phone laying dark beside her. No new messages, not from Cady or Damian. The former probably doesn’t have anything to say to her and the latter doesn’t know what. He’s been giving her a lot of space since she told him. She runs her finger across the cold glass, gliding smoothly across until it finds something that shouldn’t be there. A ridge that runs against her fingertip. She’s almost certain what this means, and last week she would have been freaking out and throwing curse words around. Now she just sighs and turns on her phone to assess the damage.

Her lockscreen is, of course, a photo of her and Cady, taken by Damian. The two wearing their pyjamas at a sleepover they had at Damian’s, a night of movie-musicals, Cady’s hair in a messy side braid and her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis pressing a kiss to her head. An hour ago it was the perfect picture, and one of Janis’ favourites. Now there’s cracks running through the screen, small ones at the top poking through her hair and over her eyes, and a longer one that slices right through her and Cady. They’re not too bad. Nowhere near bad enough to warrant a new phone. But they’re there and they’re all Janis can see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make a happy writer and a happy writer makes fics and fics make a happy fandom!!
> 
> Would you be excited if I told you the next chapter is from Cady's POV? Huh???
> 
> Also here is a masterlist of donation pages and petitions you can sign to support the Black Lives Matter movement:  
> https://oberynmartell.tumblr.com/post/619931092654358528
> 
> As always I hope you're all staying safe x


	4. Cady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo Cady's POV let's go!

Cady taps her spoon against the edge of her bowl, her feet just about touching the kitchen floor. This is the day she had been waiting impatiently for for weeks now, secretly wishing summer would pass faster so that school could start up again. She’s fully aware that she’s a minority, but she actually likes school. Maybe it’s because of her more-isolated home schooled life back in Africa, but it’s fun. Classes are far more interesting than what her parents could give her, despite their best efforts, and now that she’s mastered the skills (and learned a few lessons), socialising can be great. After a rocky ride last year, where people regarded her with confusion, then awe, and then disgust, being treated like an actual human being in the last fewweeks was kind of refreshing. It’s far from ideal, there are still far too many people who cast her dirty looks when they think she’s not looking and who believe she did things she didn’t do, but those looks were getting fewer and fewer as the days went on. She had started getting a few friendly smiles as she walked down the hall or through the cafeteria and even a few “hey theres”s from people who aren’t in her inner circle.

So all in all, she was excited to go back.

But now the day has come and the last place she wants to see is North Shore.

She swirls her cereal around in her bowl, her appetite gone despite her mother’s insistence that she eat. She hasn’t told her parents about Janis yet. How can she when she’s still trying to deal with it herself? One of her favourite things is logic, that’s why she likes maths so much, there’s always a logical answer, you just have to work out the equation to get it. But she can’t work out any equation for this.

“Cady honey, you better hurry up! You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?” Her mom’s voice is the exact opposite of how Cady feels; bright and awake and rearing to go whereas all Cady wants is her bed and a Taylor Swift album. The sad one, obviously.

She checks herself in the hallway mirror, glad to see she at least looks normal. Her white shirt is tucked into her jeans, her sandals replaced with sneakers. She had spent a little bit of time debating last night and this morning before just tying her hair back in a messy braid. When she smiles, the girl in the mirror smiles back at her and it looks real; normal happy Cady on the way to school. Her eyes don’t betray the fact that she had sobbed into her pillow for thirty minutes last night. According to her face, all is right with the world. She looks like she still has a girlfriend and like she hasn’t spent every waking moment since last night trying to make sense of what’s happened.

“See you later, Mom!” she calls over her shoulder, lifting her jacket and backpack. If she’s quick, she can get out before-

“Oh wait!”

Nope.

“Cady!” her mom hurries down the hall, her mass of curls flying behind her like a flag and her phone clutched tightly in her hand. Cady groans inwardly, fully aware of what this means. “Just let me get one picture before you leave.”

“Mommy!”

“Just one!” she pleads, gesturing with her finger, her pink lips forming a pout. You’d think a pout on a fully grown woman would look ridiculous, and it does to an extent, but it also weakens Cady’s resolve. Her mom might be an over the top sentimental monster, but she’s her over the top sentimental monster and Cady’s certain that she’d regret it if she walked out the door without letting her take a picture.

Besides, the embarrassment’s a good distraction.

“Fine,” she sighs, shifting her backpack onto her shoulder and giving into the grin working its way onto her face. She flips the braid over her shoulder and straightens her back. “Just one.”

“Promise.” That’s what her mom says, however it’s soon shown to be false, because she’s not sure if that one took. Then she wants one landscape as well as portrait. And then she needs another one because she’s not sure if she likes the lighting in that one. Then another one because apparently Cady was blinking. With each press of the button, Cady’s patience wears thinner and thinner.

“Mommy, you know that a big part of the first day of school is actually going to school?” she asks.

“Oh all right, fine,” her mom agrees, putting the phone in her pocket. She presses her hands to her mouth and looks at Cady, her shoulders rising as she takes in a deep breath. Under the hallway light, she can see the beginning of tears in her mom’s eyes. Part of Cady thinks she should roll her eyes, but instead she holds out her hand and lets her mom take it, giving it a tight squeeze. When her mom covers Cady’s hand with hers, Cady feels a quick flash of nostalgia for her homeschooling days. It’s brief and tiny, but it is there. “You’re growing up so fast. How are you a senior already?”

“I know. It feels like I’ve only been in high school for a year.” It’s a bad joke, but they both laugh. Her mom lets go of her hand and grabs her shoulders instead, her grip firm but loving.

“Have a good day today,” she tells her, finally letting her go. Just as Cady is turning to go, she takes out the phone and begins looking through the pictures, sighing wistfully at each one. Cady shakes her head fondly, chuckling under her breath. Once she’s gone, she will no doubt run up to show them to her dad and then they can both reminisce over when Cady was tiny and needed their help to toddle down the dusty roads of their old home. Parents.

“If only you’d gotten Janis to walk in with you today,” her mom says absent-mindedly. “I’d have loved a photo of the two of you together. Maybe get her to come over tonight?”

And with that, her mom unknowingly shatters her good mood.

Cady swallows the lump in her throat, reaching for her jacket as a chill takes over her body.

“Maybe,” she whispers. She clears her throat and tries again. Maybe her mom will just think it’s allergies. “She might be busy tonight.”

So much for a distraction.

She listens to one of her favourite podcasts on the way to school. She tried music, but three songs in and she was already thinking about Janis more than she was at home. She doesn’t stop when she switches to the podcast, but the discussions about the baby lions and tigers are at least a comfort to her, reminding her of her old friends.

When she gets to school, she’s first greeted by familiar faces, people she wasn’t friends with but wasn’t enemies with either. They wave and say hi and some even ask how her summer was. Sophie Kawachi even flashes her a peace sign, which she reciprocates. Despite her rocky love life, she feels hope blossoming in her chest, not unlike the kind of hope she felt this time last year as she had bounced through the doors, but with a lot less naivete this time around. If she can fix this Janis situation quickly, maybe this year can actually be good all the way through.

“Cady!” She barely has time to register the voice before a pair of arms come around her from behind and a chin rests on her shoulder. Last year she’d have certainly been startled, and her assailant would possibly have ended up with a bruise on their cheek, but instead she giggles and leans into the embrace, breathing in the scent of strawberry lipgloss and watermelon body spray.

“Hi, Karen,” she says. Karen’s smile outshines the rhinestones on her jacket and her giggle puts a smile on Cady’s face that’s hard to wipe away. Since she’s too scared to brave homeroom just yet, she’s more than glad to see her. In any case, Karen’s great company to have around, especially when you’re sad.

“I missed you,” she says.

“You saw me a few days ago,” she reminds her, bumping her shoulder affectionately. “Are Regina and Gretchen in yet?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. Cady bites her lip. Sweet as Karen is, leaving her alone in the hallway is often asking for trouble. It wasn’t rare last year for her and Gretchen to have to go tracking the girl down because she’d wandered into the gym or the locker room or out to the courtyard because she wanted to see the flowers. “Regina said she’s running late. I sent her a baby chick emoji. Gretchen is meant to be here-”

And as if on cue, Gretchen appears in Cady’s vision, walking as quickly as her heels will allow and waving away Jason Weams’ attempted affection. Her eyes are wide and her mouth in a small ‘o’, an obvious sign on her nerves, but she eases when she spies Cady.

“Hey,” she says, sliding up to her. It doesn’t escape Cady’s notice how she keeps a little distance from her. She takes a step and makes it smaller. “Ugh, I can’t believe we’re back again.”

“I’m glad about it,” Cady says with a shrug. “I mean, isn’t senior year meant to be one of the best ever?”

“Yeah,” Karen says. “I’m super excited. I’ve saved this jacket for senior year since… two years ago.”

“Well it’s pretty,” Cady tells her.

“And it means I get to see you two all the time,” Karen goes on. “Not just some days.” She beams at the two of them, but her smile is more focussed and slightly softer when it comes to Gretchen. As for Gretchen herself, her cheeks turn pink and she looks away after muttering some thanks. Cady’s ears prick up and it’s a conscious effort to keep her mouth from falling open. Exactly how long as this been going on? _What_ exactly is going on.

“Hey, Cady,” Gretchen asks quickly, her voice low. “Um… I was just wondering if you’d spoken to Janis lately.”

“J-Janis?” she repeats dumbly. She bites the inside of her cheek, determined not to cry in the middle of the hallway on her first day. “Not-not really, why?”

“Oh… well… you’re her girlfriend,” she says plainly. _Was,_ Cady thinks sadly. _Past tense._ “And I know she had that hospital appointment. Did she tell you how it went?”

“Oh.” Cady pulls on her braid and notices how shaky her hands are. “Um, yeah, she said it went fine. She didn’t really want to talk about it.”

“Oh, good,” Gretchen sighs. “Because that was really scary when she passed out at the mall.”

“Yeah.” Cady turns her braid over in her hand. Her fears about Janis’ health haven’t disappeared at all, just taken a backseat to her heartbreak. She twirls the strands of hair around her fingers, grateful for Karen’s babbling as it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. She willingly walks them to their homeroom and stops to talk to as many of her peers as she can on the way back, wanting to keep her own homeroom at bay for as long as possible.

She isn’t sure who she’s more nervous about seeing, Janis or Damian. The two of them have a bond she can never understand and while she’s more than appreciative of that, she cherishes her own friendship with Damian. After years of being an only child-not counting her animals- her bond with Damian finally makes her feel like she knows what it’s like to have a sibling. She knows he’d never willingly hurt or freeze her out. That’s just not in his nature. But she’d also bet that if it came down to her or Janis, he would pick Janis in a heartbeat. She can’t blame him, but the idea still hurts.

So when she slips into homeroom just sixty seconds before the bell goes, it’s with her heart in her mouth and an anxious shiver running down her back.

But when she spies Damian at the other end of the class, Janis isn’t with him. Cady isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse. Sure, there are any number of reasons Janis wouldn’t be in school today, and chill as her parents are, they aren’t the type to let her skip school to avoid talking to Cady.

 _Maybe she switched homeroom classes to avoid you,_ a voice in her head whispers.

 _Thanks,_ she whispers back.

As is her nature, she makes the most of it and approaches Damian, her footsteps not unlike the ones she’d use when approaching the lions in Kenya. Optimistic but careful. Damian doesn’t notice her, and for a split second she panics and thinks that he’s ignoring her, until she’s next to him and he looks up from his book, his face breaking into a smile. The smile doesn’t sit right with her-it’s apprehensive and weak, and that’s unfamiliar for the ever-cheerful Damian.

“Hey,” she manages to say despite the heavy lump in her throat.

“Happy new year, little slice,” he greets. At least he’s still himself. When he doesn’t object to her dropping her bag on the desk beside his, she’s even more relieved. Even if there’s still an elephant in the room.

“So…” she begins, her fingers picking against the desk. “Have you… have you spoken to Janis lately?”

He lets out a long sigh, running his hands through his hair. There’s a vulnerability about him that Cady hasn’t seen before and she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t scare her, however slightly. His eyes meet hers, anxiety and melancholy replacing the usual fun spark.

“So she told you,” is all he says.

“Well, yeah.” Told is a strange way of putting it. She looks down at her fidgeting hands, her need for answers clashing with her respect for their friendship. Eventually she finds a middle ground. “Damian… you don’t have to answer… but did she talk to you about it before? I just thought… since you two are like…” She holds up her crossed fingers for him to see and gives him a shrug. “You know?”

“Yeah,” he says. The corners of his mouth turn up in a hollow smile. “She asked me to come over to her house and she told me everything.” His lips roll into a thin line and Cady swears she sees him blink away a tear. Was he really that invested in their relationship? More than Janis was? “It was a tough time. When did she tell you?”

“Last night,” she replies. She rubs the back of her neck, startled at how cold her hands are. “It was over the phone.”

“Ooft.” He winces sympathetically and reaches over to pat her hands. “Well, you know Janis. She’d surgically remove her emotions if she could.” Cady nods, tight-lipped. She takes in a deep breath, determined not to cry at school. She really doesn’t want to have to explain to people why she burst out crying on her first day of the school year. That’d be an even lower point than her last first day.

She must look sadder than she wants to, though, because Damian croons “Oh, sweetheart” at her and kneels beside her desk, his hand covering hers. The comfort he provides is stronger than her anxiety and pulls the words out of her before she can stop them.

“I just… It’s so unexpected,” she says. “You know?”

“Yeah. I guess you think it would never happen to you and then… it happens.” He taps a fast, nervous rhythm on her desk and she notices how chewed up some of his nails look. “And when it does it doesn’t feel real. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. She shakes her head. If she’s honest, she there’s a small part of her that can’t help being annoyed that how much he seems to be siding with Janis here, or at the very least trying to be neutral. Yes, he’s her best friend, and she’s fully aware of how much they mean to each other. But she’s not here and would it kill him to pretend? It’s not like what she did didn’t suck and wasn’t a dick move by romance standards. Maybe she’ll vent to Gretchen later about it. “Did she ever say anything before?”

“What do you mean, before?”

“Just… it’s fine you don’t have to answer.” She turns away from him, looking in her bag for her notepad.

“Caddy-”

“No, I know it’s not any of my business,” she replies, a bit harsher than she had intended. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and takes in a deep breath to compose herself. When she looks over at Damian again, he’s not mad, or if he is he does a very good job of hiding it. He looks confused more than anything else. “I just thought things were going really well. I didn’t expect it-I didn’t think she wasn’t happy.”

“Not happy?” he says. “Of course she wasn’t happy, she…” His voice trails off, his eyes grow wide and Cady watches as he puts together pieces of a puzzle she doesn’t have. “Cady, what are you talking about?”

But before she can answer, Mrs Norbury strides into the classroom, her glasses atop her messy bun and as usual, she carries more papers and folders than her arms can carry. She begins welcoming them back to the school and getting them ready to tackle the year ahead, all with the same cherry, wholesome vibe that makes Cady feel so safe around her. Only she soon starts to slow down, her eyes avoiding the students as her voice takes on a more serious tone. Cady reaches down to her backpack and squeezes the plush lion on her zipper.

“As some of you may have heard, your classmate Janis Sarkisian won’t be completing this year with us.”

What? A gasp ripples throughout the classroom. It’s not just news to Cady, it’s news to all of them. Is that why she broke up with her, she wonders. The only one who doesn’t seem surprised is Damian. When she turns to him, his head is bowed and he picks at his nails, but his face is resigned. Did he know?

“Her parents informed the school that she’ll be receiving treatment for cancer throughout this year,” Norbury concludes.

Cady freezes, one particular word standing out in her mind. She’s vaguely aware of a bunch of heads turning towards her and of the suffocating silence that falls on the room, but she can’t find it in her to care, let alone meet any of them. She’s too focussed on trying to catch her breath for that. A million questions run through her mind at once, blocking out the gasps and murmurs form her classmates.

“What the fuck?” someone exclaims. And Cady’s inclined to agree with them. Until she realises that the person who said it was her.

She spends the remainder of homeroom in open mouthed shock, the words ‘Janis’ and ‘cancer’ constantly at the front of her mind. As Norbury keeps talking, she sends subtle, sympathetic glances Cady’s way and amongst all the confusion, she’s grateful for it.

At least she has an answer now, she thinks. She kind of wishes she didn’t though. Janis breaking up with her is one thing. Janis having… This is another thing entirely.

She’s hurt. She might feel bad for it but she’s still hurt. Hurt that Janis didn’t tell her and hurt that she decided she’d rather break up with her than confide in her. Whatever she thought about where she and Janis were in their relationship, she was clearly wrong.

As soon as the bell rings she’s at Damian’s desk, looking up at him with eyes that demand answers. He sighs, putting his bag on his shoulder and the two hang back as the rest of the students file out, only leaving when Mrs Norbury gives them a silent reminder that there’s other people in the world besides them.

“She didn’t tell you,” he states in a low voice. The hall is empty enough, their fellow students far away enough so that they won’t hear them. “Did she?”

“Tell me?” She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Damian… she broke up with me!”

“She did what?” he gasps, bringing the two of them to a halt. He shakes his head, as close to a scowl as she’s ever seen on his face. “That’s… no, I’m gonna… Okay but she… I’m going to talk to her about that because-”

“Damian.” She holds up her hand to silence him. “It’s okay. I can deal with her. It’s my-our relationship.”

“Okay.” His hand brushes against hers and then he takes it, his palm warm against hers. She’s not sure who he’s trying to comfort, himself or her, then it occurs to her it might be both. And despite it all, it’s nice to know he’s still her friend. “Damian, when you said she told you… what exactly did she tell you?”

At first he doesn’t answer. He swings their joined hands, a troubled expression on his face. And for the first time, it actually hits Cady as the anger begins to fade. It’s still there, but it simmers in the background as she faces this harrowing reality; Janis has cancer. Her girlfriend, the girl she… really likes a lot, has cancer.

Damian’s arm wraps around her waist and he hugs her tightly. She leans into his embrace, the two of them alone in this vast ocean.

“She told me everything she could,” he tells her quietly. “That she starts treatments on Monday.” Explains why she isn’t here. “She apologised, which was ridiculous.”

“Completely.” When Cady reaches up to touch her face, her fingers come away wet. Damn it.

“She also said she’s going to be okay,” he says weakly. “I told her of course she will be.”

“Of course,” Cady echoes. She thinks of Janis, larger than life, unapologetic, goofy, stubborn, beautiful Janis and despite the tears in her eyes and the hurt in her chest, she smiles. There’s no way this cancer could take her down. Not that she ever thought it would.

She rests her head on Damian’s shoulder and when she slips into her first class five minutes late, she’s let off with a warning and nothing more. And dozens of concerned eyes and hushed murmurs as she makes it to her seat. She’s not Home Schooled Jungle Freak or New Queen Bee any more. She’s The Girl Whose Girlfriend Has Cancer.

*****

At the end of the school day, Cady is the first one heading for the door, ducking her head to avoid the rest of the student body. Now that the word is out about Janis it’s all anyone talks about, and everyone assumes that as her girlfriend, she already knew. Which of course she didn’t and while she feigns composure and tries to be collected, she can’t not be annoyed at her. Every time someone approaches her and asks when Janis told her, she has to begrudgingly admit that she only found out this morning and it stings, even if she doesn’t tell them about the break up. Being the Girl Whose Girlfriend Has Cancer is one thing, being the Girl Who Got Dumped is another. It’s why she’s so eager to leave before anyone else can ask her; she wants to get to Janis’ house while there’s still affection in her.

She shoots her mom a quick text telling her she’s going to Janis’, omitting the reason why. To be honest, all she wants to do is run home and collapse in her mom’s arms and tell her everything, to give in to all the sad feelings hiding behind her anger. But she’s only got three days to talk to Janis about this and she worries that if she goes home now, she’ll never see her again.

And it’s the idea of never seeing Janis again that propels her forwards, taking the bus to her street and forcing her feet to move in the direction of her (ex) girlfriend’s house. A passer-by would be forgiven for thinking she was confident given the quick pace with which she’s walking, but her heart is pounding so hard it might burst out of her chest and she spent the bus ride writing down the main points she’s making like it’s a debate for English class. The only reason she’s moving with such purpose is a combination of the “Empowerment Playlist” she’s listening to (courtesy of Gretchen) and what she likes to think is rightful frustration.

Still, she has to wipe her hand on her pants before ringing Janis’ doorbell.

“Hi Mrs Sarkisian,” she greets with a smile, the same smile she’s always greeted Cady with. She searches Mrs Sarkisian’s face, trying to find any trace of fear or sadness or any indication that her daughter has been struck with an infamous illness. Was she in the room when they found out? Had she had an idea before? More selfishly, does she know about the break-up?

“A-are you here for Janis?” Mrs Sarkisian asks and it’s then Cady realises she hasn’t said anything.

“Oh, um, yeah, yes,” she replies. She plays with the zipper of her jacket. “Is she here? I just want to talk to her about… some stuff.”

A moment passes before she says “sure” and lets Cady in. She wonders what was going in Mrs Sarkisian’s head for that moment. Was she considering making up a lie and politely declining?

“She’s just in the living room.” She gestures to the tightly shut door. That’s all that’s separating her from Janis. A door that’s about the same thickness as her calculator. She suddenly starts chugging the water in her backpack.

“Thanks, Mrs Sarkisian,” she replies. She gives her a stern look and Cady manages a weak nod, remembering a past conversation. “Laura.”

As Janis’ mom moves slowly down the hallway, Cady places her hand on the doorknob, fingers freezing around the metal. Seeing her girlfriend is scaring her more than anything else she’s faced so far.

“Fearless,” she whispers to herself. “Fearless.” Her little mantra gives her strength and she turns the knob, and stumbles into the living room.

“Caddy!”

Janis is sitting on the couch, the exact same girl she saw last week at the mall. Every inch of her is familiar, but at the same time Cady has to ask herself if she always looked like this. If her skin is paler or is she imagining things, does she look more tired or is it just the lack of make-up? Her hair looks unbrushed and is pulled back into a messy ponytail and in the split second before she noticed her, she had been watching the TV with half-empty eyes and her hand thoughtlessly running through Maxie’s fur. There’s a white blanket draped around her shoulders and she doesn’t think she remembers Janis looking quite so vulnerable before.

One thing is for sure though; Janis wasn’t expecting her to come around.

“Caddy what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she asks, stepping closer to Janis. A warm flush spreads across her face and down her back and she doesn’t know if it’s out of anger or embarrassment or both. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“I don’t-”

“Janis, I know,” she tells her sharply, only to immediately regret it. Her whole body is rigid, apart from her hand which fidgets at her side. “I know. Norbury told us, Jan. I know what’s wrong with you. Everyone does.”

“Oh,” is all Janis says. She turns away from her, but thanks to her pulled-back hair, Cady can see the way her jaw is clenched and how her shoulders shake, the way her face scrunches in a way that can only mean one thing. In less than a second, all the anger and frustration that had pushed her here melts away, leaving just a little bit of guilt and a lot of sadness. Seconds pass in a suffocating silence and Cady is almost tempted to just leave. Walk out the door and let her go. It’s only because the idea of letting her go hurts more than this that she stays.

“I’m sorry,” Janis finally says, still looking away. “I wanted to tell you-okay no that’s a lie. I didn’t.”

“Oh thanks,” Cady scoffs. “Way to make me feel better.”

“No, Caddy.” She pushes a rather offended Maxie off her lap and stands up. It doesn’t escape Cady’s notice how the task takes more effort than normal or that her breathing is more laboured than it should be. She’s clad in an oversized grey shirt and black shorts poking out underneath, her collarbone poking out starkly. She looks over at her, tear tracks on her pale cheeks. “It’s not like that. I didn’t want you to know because…” She waves her hand in mid-air as she searches for the right words. “I didn’t know how.”

“You knew how to tell Damian,” she says, though her voice is far softer than it would have been an hour ago.

“He’s different,” Janis tells her with a shrug. “He’s Damian.”

“And I’m what exactly?” she asks. After a deep breath in, she takes a step closer to Janis. They’re still giving each other space, but she could reach out and touch her now if she wanted. Instead she keeps her arms to herself. “Janis I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Yeah okay, I am,” she sighs. “I mean… did you break up with me to get out of telling me?”

“No.” Her eyes widen at that, her hair bouncing as she shakes her head. “No, no Cady. I didn’t.”

“Then what? Were you always planning on it? Was this just really bad timing?”

“No, God, Cady no!” As she speaks, she looks the most normal she has since Cady got there. Or the most familiar, at least. She runs a hand over her face, a small, pained sound emitting from her mouth. “God. I broke up with you because…” She lets out a loud, trembling sob and not having her arms around her physically hurts. “Because you didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve a girlfriend with… with cancer.”

Now it’s Cady’s turn to bite back tears. How could Janis even think that? That some illness would make her less worthy of her? Her confession tears at and mends her heart at the same time.

“Well…” She takes another step closer to her. Lifting her chin up just a little, she takes Janis’ hand and moves it away from her face. Cady’s thumb presses into the palm of her hand. “You don’t deserve cancer.” Janis’ fingers intertwine with hers.

“That’s different,” she whispers. “I’m just trying to minimise the damage.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” She winces out of some unknown pain. “It means I’m already dragging my parents down with this. And Damian too. I ca-can’t do that to you.” Cady blinks and-unsurprisingly-finds tears in her own eyes. “I can’t drag you down too, Caddy.” Cady shakes her head, her words deserting her. As if Janis could ever drag her down. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I should have, you were right. You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have.” That’s about as annoyed as she can get now. After a brief hesitation, she reaches out and wipes her tears away. She at least smiles at that. “Janis… don’t push me away. Not now, especially not now.” _Not when you need me_ she adds silently.

“I just want you to be happy,” she says quietly. “I want you to enjoy your senior year, Caddy. Minimal baggage.”

“Maybe I want to carry the baggage with you,” she replies firmly. Her words take Janis by surprise. With a gentle smile, she continues “I mean isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing as your girlfriend?” The hopeful look in Janis’ is all the answer she needs. Enough to make her close the distance between them even more and run her fingers through her hair. “Then let me in,” she whispers.

And she’s close to. But there’s a tension in Janis’ shoulders and a wall still standing between them.

“Caddy, I read all these articles,” she explains. “About relationships and cancer and it might… I might not be able to be a good girlfriend right now.”

Cady shakes her head again, because she can’t imagine a world where Janis isn’t a good girlfriend.

“Then I’ll be good enough for the both of us,” she tells her. “Then when you get better, we can be good together.”

The corners of Janis’ mouth turn up into a smile and gosh, does it warm Cady’s heart to see it.

“There’s no getting rid of you, is there?”

“Nope.” Janis chuckles, the sound sweet and lovely and better than any music on her phone and taps her finger to Cady’s nose. In response she plants a swift and sweet kiss to the inside of Janis’ wrist.

“Do you want to stay?” she asks sheepishly. “Just for a little bit. You can fill me in on school. I can fill you in on this. And…” She avoids her eyes but this time it’s not out of fear or discomfort. If the pinkish hue on her cheeks is any indication, it’s out of an affectionate embarrassment. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Cady tells her, squeezing her hand. “Art freak.”

They settle themselves on Janis’ couch, Cady’s legs draped over hers and the blanket around Janis’ shoulders and pulled over Cady’s back, sealing them in their own little cocoon. Cady tries to fill her in about school and what she’s missed, deciding to omit the details about Karen and Gretchen this morning. Janis can find that out when the two of them are ready. Instead she tells her about her plans to captain the Mathletes now that Kevin is gone and of her excitement for the classes ahead. Small and unimportant things that soon fall to the side, giving way for Janis to tell her everything.

“I have leukaemia,” she explains. “According to Mr Doctor Man, that means I have too many white blood cells and that means the red ones can’t function.” Her hand is tense as it curls around Cady’s. That sounds nothing short of terrifying to Cady, and she realises immediately after that that she’s not even the person going through it. So as much as anything Janis says scares her, it’s nothing to what Janis herself must be feeling.

“How did you find out?” she asks after a while.

“I just… I was tired all the time,” she says. “And you know… passing out in the mall.” The fact that Cady was there that day and witnessed it and didn’t know the reason why sends a shiver down her spine. “And I was waking up in the middle of the night and I was really, really hot. You can make a joke about how I’m already really hot.”

“Nah. Your ego’s big enough already.” Janis chuckles, albeit short lived.

“So I got a blood test and then… they found out.” She gives a nonchalant shrug that’s not at all matching the topic. “I did not take it well.” Now it’s Cady’s turn to laugh and she wonders if this is a sign of what’s coming. Laughing at the darkness because it’s better than the alternative.

“Damian told me you start treatment on Monday,” she says quietly. Janis nods and takes in a deep breath. Cady wonders if Damian telling her was crossing a line.

“Yep,” she sighs. Her demeanour changes slightly, even if the tension in her hand and the beating of her heart doesn’t. Not too much, but enough to make her appear calm to an outsider. “Basically two weeks in the hospital, then a week here, for three months.” She kisses the back of Cady’s hand, a spark in her eye that feels more like her. “Then after that, all of this will be a funny memory and we’ll laugh ourselves silly.”

“We will?” Cady echoes, doubtful. Janis manages a half-nod and Cady rests her head on her shoulder, her arm across her girlfriend’s chest. Janis pulls her closer and rests her cheek against Cady’s hair. If she’s honest, the way Janis is holding her isn’t entirely comfortable, but there’s a desperation in her touch that makes Cady’s discomfort almost silly. Like someone might come in and drag Cady away at any moment. So even with the dull ache in her back, she strokes Janis’ hair and kisses her cheek, counting the tiniest of smiles as a victory.

They sit like that in silence for a long, long time before Janis speaks up again, without walls or defences and sounding impossibly far away despite being so close to her.

“I’m scared,” she confesses, and then she breaks. It’s not the panicking type of fear that she’s familiar with, both from her own experiences and with Gretchen. Instead it feels deep and cold, sitting heavily in her soul and rattling her from within. She’s been living with it for days now, utterly alone. And it’s terrible, for Cady to watch and no doubt for Janis to experience. She’d give anything if it meant she could just tell her it will all be okay, how could she?

“I know,” is what she says instead. She kisses her cheek again and again and nuzzles into her neck. “I know.” Janis’ moves heavily and slowly against her, her breath ruffling Cady’s stray hair. She presses another firm kiss to Cady’s head and a lot is held in that simple gesture.

“I need you to promise me something,” Janis says softly. Her fingers fidget and pick anxiously at the blanket, chasing away whatever pleasantness was left. “I need you to promise that if it gets too much… if this gets too hard for you, you’ll walk away.”

“Janis-”

“Cady.” She shifts and breaks them apart so she can look Cady squarely in the eyes and hold her hands close to her chest. The expression on her face is equal parts desperate and steadfast. And fear. Cady has an unwelcome suspicion that fear might become commonplace for the next few months. Janis holds her face in her cold hands and continues. “I mean it. I need you to promise that you won’t put your life on hold because of me. That if… if this starts interfering with your life and what you want, you’ll step back. Even if it means… if it means ending it.”

Cady shakes her head. It’s an absurd promise and one she could never keep. Asking her to give up Janis would be like asking her to step down as Mathletes captain or delete the pictures of lions from her phone. She went through a lot last year to find who she wants to be, and who she wants to be with, and nothing could make her give that up. But Janis is silently pleading with her and she knows there’s no way to placate her other than agreeing.

“Okay, fine. I promise.” But her fingers are crossed behind her back. She’s broken promises before, and this is at least one worth breaking. And regardless, there’s more ways to get out of such a deal. “And I’ll make another promise. That it’ll never be too much for me. Not ever, Janis Sarkisian.”

She nods and mumbles an ‘okay’ and while she’s clearly comforted by Cady’s declaration, she doesn’t seem entirely convinced. It makes sense; she’s been plagued by insecurities for a while and the effects past betrayal still linger on her, making sweet words turn sour in her mind. So when Cady tilts her head towards her and kisses her, it’s more than a kiss. It’s another promise, not to Janis but to herself, that she’ll spend every day until this is over making Janis believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. Janis

Janis will always remember this morning.

The sun is just about up as she stands in her bedroom, fighting for dominance with grey clouds that promise a shower later on. Across the city, kids are groaning and pressing the snooze buttons, getting dressed and brushing their teeth, packing their bags and making sure they have everything for the day ahead. Janis is doing the almost same thing, but instead of packing for school, she’s squashing as much as she can into her bag, trying to take as much of home with her as she possibly can. They’re all headed off to school and will see their homes again tonight, she won’t see this bedroom for another two weeks.

Her teeth dig into her lip and she pushes another sweater into the bag. It’s a little like going on vacation; she has no idea what’s enough pairs of underwear and if she’ll need a sweater and if she really needs this t-shirt she hasn’t worn in two years. Maybe if she pretends it’s a vacation she can get through it.

She picks up the small stuffed kitten that lay across her pillows. He’s been her constant companion since she was five, accompanying her to sleepovers and overnight field trips and Girl Scout retreats. Wherever she slept, he slept. Which is why she doesn’t hesitate in putting him in her bag. She drops a little kiss to his forehead before she packs him, though, and decides to put him in the side of her backpack instead. To let him look out at everything. And so she can grab him if she needs him.

She hasn’t eaten anything. Her stomach has twisted itself into knots and tied those knots together and folded in on itself. She picked at oatmeal downstairs but despite her parents insistence, she couldn’t eat any of it. Her dad had reminded her that she’d need her strength for the day ahead and Janis had stifled a laugh. She doesn’t feel strong at all right now and doubts oatmeal could help. Her parents had only allowed her to go upstairs to finish packing when she agreed to take her breakfast with her.

To kill time, and to avoid the cold oatmeal glaring at her from her nightstand, she looks through the open drawers, trying to find something to add to the mass in her bag. Her doctor had advised her to pack what she’d be most comfortable in. He of course meant PJs and sweatpants and stuff Janis can lounge in during her treatment, but the two of them seem to have different versions of ‘comfortable’. For Janis, comfort means being happy with herself, and what she wears is sort of like a manifestation of her own soul. After all, it did take longer than she thought to find out what she likes wearing. So in that vein, her bag is filled with fishnet tights and graphic tees and shorts and denim skirts. And a few pairs of leggings, just to keep her mom happy.

As she looks through the drawers and tries to block out her parents’ muffled conversations, she pulls out a hoodie that’s far too big to be hers. She pulls it out, falling back against her bed as she does so. She knows who owns it before she opens it up, and her breath catches in her throat. It’s Damian’s; originally plain white but she had tie-dyed it for him and sewn little a little rainbow under the hood as a birthday present last year. He must have left it here and a while ago and she had always intended to give it back. But now…

She holds it against her body, burying her face in the soft fabric inside the hood. She knows how it sounds, but having this sweater is the next best thing to having Damian with her. It feels like him, his big teddy bear body pulling her into a hug that lasts for ages, making her feel more safe than she does anywhere else.

Hopefully, he’ll understand.

“Janis?” She jumps a bit before turning around, her dad having caught her off guard. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, his shoulders hunched over and his hips moving back and forth like someone is pulling strings on both sides. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she replies, thankful that her eyes are dry. She pushes herself up and heads to the bed, wringing the sweater in her hands. “Just went to get this.” She manages to squish it into the bag and zip it up, catching on clothes along the way. Her dad does offer to help but she shakes him off and manages to get the thing closed, even if it is straining and reminds her vaguely of an overstuffed Christmas turkey.

“That’s everything,” she says. “Right?”

“Is it? You got the essentials?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Um, underwear, PJs, clothes, laptop, notebook, pencils, chargers, phone, toothbrush, hairbrush…” She rattles them off on her fingers, the monotony of it somehow calming her.

“I see your little kitty’s coming too,” her dad points out, tapping under the toy’s chin. “Didn’t want to miss out, did he?” Janis chuckles at that. Despite her having grown out of that phase, her dad has kept on treating Purrlock like he’s real. She loves him for that.

“He said two weeks without me was too long,” she replies. Two weeks of sleeping in a different bed and eating food that wasn’t cooked in their kitchen, not seeing her friends and instead getting medicines pumped into her body because her body is being wrecked from the inside.

She comes back to herself just in time to see her hand reaching to grab Purrlock out of her bag.

“Hey.” Her dad takes the toy and gently presses it into her hand, his free hand rubbing up and down her arm. She can’t be imagining him trembling. Even so, she rests her head on his shoulder and lets him hold her tight. They stand in silence for a while before her dad whispers “Come on, it’s time to go,” in her ear. He has to pull her out of her room and takes both her bags with him. In the back of her mind, she wishes she could help, but she feels a little like her brain is on standby.

Her mom is already waiting in the car, her own bag packed. Her parents agreed that her mom would stay in the hospital with Janis while her dad stays at work, promising to visit her every night. ‘They’re going to have to extend visiting hours just for me’ he had promised. She slides into the backseat and places her backpack on her lap for something to hold on to.

“Everybody say ‘bye bye house’,” she says. It’s barely a joke, just something her parents liked to say when they would go on road trips when she was little, but it gets a laugh out of both of them.

As the car pulls out of the drive, she gives a minute wave goodbye to her house. Suddenly two weeks seems a lot longer than it had.

*****

Janis will never understand how people who work in hospitals are so damn cheerful. The receptionist who greets them, the nurses who guide her to her new room and give her a medical bracelet, they all have such a peppy, wholesome demeanour that makes them feel unsuited for the job they have. Like they should be on the side-lines of a football game instead,

Her room is identical to the other ones they passed; pale blue walls and a large window, in her case overlooking the parking lot, and a bathroom attached. Little Janis is jumping up and down with glee. She always wanted an en suite. Then there’s the bed, the one thing she doesn’t want to look at. With its sturdy grey frame and spotless, perfectly made white sheets it looks even more impersonal than the rest of the room. The worst part by far is the white bar above it which has outlets and hooks along it. All to house her various medicines and drugs.

Ward 3, Room 21. Her new home.

“Okay, let’s get you settled in,” the nurse begins. She did introduce herself, something beginning with an L, but it didn’t stick. “And then Doctor Wiley will be down to see you in a few minutes.” Again, the all-too-happy manners feel more like they belong in a hotel lobby. Like she’s just gone on vacation for a week. So, as though she’s on vacation, she wanders over and sits on the mattress, pushing herself up and down.

“Not very bouncy,” she concludes.

“I’ll put in a complaint with the manager,” her dad replies and she laughs, really laughs.

“You’re such a Karen,” she chuckles. “Not my Karen. Just you know… the species Karen.”

“I’ll get a bob and amber highlights,” he goes on and she leans back on the bed, still laughing. “Start ordering ice Frappuccino’s at Starbucks. Those are what Karens drink, right?”

“No, that’s what Regina George drinks,” her mom corrects him. “A Karen would have a latte, skim milk, no cream, half a pack of sweetener and then bring her own organic chocolate.” Janis’ cheeks almost hurt from smiling and laughing, but it fades almost instantly when she sees the doctor appearing behind them, the same one they spoke to before. Doctor Wiley, she assumes, but she’ll almost always be calling him Mr Doctor Man in the future.

Her parents take notice of him and in one motion, move away from the door and next to her, flanking her on either side.

“Well, I wish I was seeing you under different circumstances, Janis,” he says, a grim edge to his voice.

“The feeling’s mutual,” she replies. The corners of his mouth turn up at that. For her, the air turns chilly and she pulls her cardigan tighter around her.

“First thing’s first, we’re going to take a little blood test-”

“I already did one,” she interrupts. “Isn’t that the whole reason I’m here?”

“Well, yes, but this is a different one,” he explains. “That was to determine the type of cancer you have; this will be so we know how best to administer the chemo. We’ll also need to do a quick physical exam, check your height, weight, breathing, all so we know how to tailor your treatment to you.”

“Treatment that’s personally tailored to me,” she says. “What a dream.” Mr Doctor nods, a knowing smirk on his face that lifts Janis’ head. They lock eyes for a fraction of a second before he looks at her parents, as though he knows something they don’t.

“She’s going to be a fighter, I can tell,” he says. At that, her dad squeezes her hand and for a second, she wonders if she might actually make it through this.

Doctor Man’s comment and her parents’ pride both give her the strength to make it through the physical exam at least. It’s all quick and easy, even when he gets the needle out to draw her blood. Unlike Karen, who balks at the mere mention of one, she’s not particularly frightened of needles. She doesn’t love the idea either, but the only reaction she gives is her hand tightening on the arm of the chair.

So before homeroom ends for her friends, she’s standing with a cookie in one hand, juice box in the other and a tiny bandage on her arm.

“We’ll hope to get you started as quickly as possible,” her nurse explains. “In the meantime, why don’t you go check the place out? There’s a good teen lounge down the hall. There’s TV, games, movies. The whole shebang.”

“The whole shebang,” Janis echoes, a faint smile on her face.

“Do the kids not say ‘shebang’ anymore?” the nurse asks innocently.

“Not since the 90s, I think,” she replies. She kicks the ground with the toe of her boot, her hands plunged into her pockets. When she takes a tiny look up, she sees her parents deep in conversation with the doctor. If she doesn’t go to the lounge, it’s back to her room and that isn’t appealing to her. Besides, been there, seen that. “Sounds cool. Where do I find it?”

She probably could have found it without the nurse’s directions, but the sunny smile she delivers them with does something to calm Janis’ nerves. It’s a bit down past her room, honey-coloured double doors open revealing a bigger area with three baby blue walls and one white and covered in pencil doodles. They’ve clearly gone all out to make it cheerful and inviting, from the yellow sunshine rug on the floor to the overstuffed bookshelves and equally overstuffed DVD and game cabinet, to the large plush armchairs, each one with a brightly coloured cushion on it that looks like it was brought in a thrift store. A cool thrift store, though. One of the chairs is occupied now by what appears to be the only person in the room besides Janis.

“Wow.” Janis jumps, and then surprisingly, she supresses a sigh. She simply assumed her parents were still talking to the doctors, but that was probably a stupid assumption. Of course they’d be on her heels. Why would they let their illness-stricken daughter out of their sight? “Well this is cool.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles in reply. As her parents take in the room, the other kid looks up at her. She can’t be more than fourteen, legs folded beneath her on the chair, clad in rainbow-stripped leggings and a pink hoodie with who she recognises to be Princess Aurora on the front. And a beanie on her head, made from purple wool. Janis’ hand clenches in her pocket, her mouth running dry.

“Hey, sweetie,” her mom says, appearing at her side. “Do you need anything? There was a little store downstairs and the doctors said you might want to eat or drink something before your treatment starts.”

Relief hits her like a water balloon being thrown and guilt quickly follows. Not enough to make her refuse, but enough to make her notice and hope this doesn’t become common.

“That’d be great, Mom,” she replies. “I didn’t really eat breakfast.”

“That’s fine, we’ll get you something. Anything in particular you want? I can get you some candy if you want, or some-”

“It’s fine,” she says, plastering a smile on her face and patting her mom’s hand. “I trust your judgement. I’ll be here.”

Her mom cups her face before she finally leaves and Janis lets out a sigh before she can stop herself. Her eyes move to the other girl out on instinct and she finds her giggling. Should she be annoyed by that? If so, she’s doing the opposite. She pauses for a second before moving towards her and sitting on the arm of the chair next to her.

“Hey,” she greets. “I’m Janis.”

Damian’s voice whispers _‘and je m’appelle Sasha Fierce’_ in her ear. She shakes her head to get it out.

“Hey,” she replies, putting her tablet by her side. “I’m Maddie.” Her eyes are green and there are braces on her teeth and dimples in her cheeks and as cute as Janis finds it, there’s an air of discomfort that she hopes Maddie doesn’t pick up on. She doesn’t appear to, instead looking at her with inquisitive eyes. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, first off, I’ve never seen you. And I know everything that goes on in here.” Janis chuckles.

“So you’re the all-seeing eye,” she states and Maddie nods excitedly. “No one gets in or out without you noticing.”

“Nope.” The smile on Maddie’s face falters and her fingers fidget in her lap. “And you look… well…” As her voice trails off, the pieces click together in Janis’ mind. Even despite the height difference, there’s a visible contrast between her and Maddie that she can’t ignore. Her hand twitches to touch her hair.

“Scary? Yeah, well, I’m 5”9’,” she responds, bringing the grin back. “Plus the dye job makes me look tougher than I actually am.” She leans back so that she sits on the seat, her feet dangling over the arm.

“Oh, I love your boots!” Maddie squeaks, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah?” There’s a rush of protective affection in her chest, slightly similar to when she saw Cady looking helpless and hopeless in health class, but she’s certain it won’t develop the way those feelings did. She wiggles her legs, letting the light catch her boots. “$15 at a thrift store.”

“Woah,” she breathes. A sheepish look crosses her face, a question on her mind that may as well be written across her forehead.

“You want to try them on?”

“Can I?” Maddie’s mouth has fallen open and her eyes bulge in a perfect picture of delight that warms Janis’ heart. That feeling doesn’t go away when she toes off her boots and only swells when Maddie steps into them. Even in those boots, she barely comes up to Janis’ chest. She looks up at her with so much giddy excitement that Janis wouldn’t be surprised if she started singing.

“Oh they suit you,” she says.

“Thanks.” She looks down at them, clumsily tapping the heels together like Dorothy. “I’ve always wanted a pair of shoes like these but my mom always said they’re too adult for me. Though she has been whittled down from ‘not until your 18’ to ‘maybe for your birthday’.”

“You must be quite the negotiator.”

“Well, I guess. But she finds it hard to say no to me these days,” she shrugs.

“Ah.” Suddenly the light in Janis’ chest begins to dim and she finds herself cold again. “Well that’s fun.”

“Yeah…” Maddie must have picked up on the mood change because she sits back down and Janis follows her, once again picking at her nails. “So… what are you in for?”

“You sound like we’re in prison,” she jokes. She puts on a gruff voice and a stern expression and says “I’ve killed a man. I killed a man for a jar of pickles. And I’d do it again.” Maddie chuckles again, the sound sweet and light and well… happier than Janis thought possible given the circumstances. She picks at her fishnets, her chest heavily. “I’m in for leukaemia.”

“Oh,” is Maddie’s response, as well as a nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” she sighs. She considers what she wants to say carefully, reasoning that Maddie asked her the same. Maybe boundaries don’t exist here, or at least they’re different. Maybe discussing your cancer here is like discussing your test scores at school. “What about you?”

“My stomach,” she replies. “I started feeling weird two months ago, went to a doctor and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Two months?” Janis asks, astonished. She can barely imagine being here for a week, let alone two months. Her heart aches for herself and for Maddie, but there’s also a small spark of hope. Maddie’s been here two months and she seems strong enough. Who says she can’t?

“Yeah. I’m scheduled to finish soon though.” Maddie ducks her head, but it doesn’t stop Janis from seeing the sad expression on her little face. As she shakes her head and gives her a false-looking smile, Janis feels like she’s watching a replay of her own life.

“You’re incredibly tough,” she tells her and she watches the smile become real. She looks around the room, noticing things she hadn’t picked up on like the pile of board games in the corner and the flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. “So this is where you guys hang out?”

“Yeah. It’s usually more crowded than this,” she explains. “But you know… teenagers.”

“Hey, miss,” she says. “I’m a teenager too. And so are you.”

“Fair.” She taps her fingers on her knee in a rhythm Janis can’t quite place. “So your parents are with you?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “They just went to get me some food.”

“They seem cool.”

“I guess,” she says with a shrug. “You know. For parents. Speaking of, where are yours? Or do they just let a little kid like you sit alone in here with all the valuables.”

“I’m not a kid. I’ll be 13 in six weeks,” she tells her rather sternly. “I told my mom my feet were cold, so I asked her to go get me my fuzzy socks.” Janis nods, but quickly catches on to the flaw in Maddie’s idea.

“Those wouldn’t be the red fuzzy socks that you’re wearing underneath those boots, would it?” she asks.

“Shh,” she commands, finger to her lips. “She doesn’t need to know that!”

Janis throws her head back laughing at that. It’s like God took everything she could like about a human and condensed it into one little kid.

“Sneaky little brat,” she says approvingly. She’s keeping this one.

“Janis.” She turns and finds her parents right behind her chair, both with their hands full of goodies from the store. Definitely more than she can stomach now.

“Wow,” she says. “Did you leave any for anyone else?”

“Well we didn’t know exactly what you wanted,” her mom admits, flustered. “We did text you but you didn’t respond.”

“Sorry,” she shrugs. Her phone is both off and in her bag. There’s probably a lot she’s missed by now.

“It’s okay hon.” The three (four, including Maddie) sit in a tense, awkward silence in which everyone’s eyes avoid everyone else’s. Embarrassment flurries in Janis’ chest and she squirms in the chair, grappling in the empty air for a conversation topic.

“So what did you get?” she asks and everything comes back to normal again.

“Well, I got you… rice cakes, chips, candy bars… oh and we got you some water as well.” Janis stifles a laugh. Her parents are more than well-intentioned and her heart is warmed, but they’ve never gone this far before.

“Thanks,” she says, pulling a rice cake out of her mom’s arms. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Maddie shifting in her chair and she shares look with her mom, who drops another candy bar into her hand.

“Hey.” She barely has to stretch to poke Maddie in the arm with the candy. Her mouth falls open, the most sweet-sounding gasp that’s ever existed emitting from it and her eyes lighting up. Janis had no idea there was a way for a gasp to sound cute, but there is apparently. “Here. Take some sugar, kid.”

“Thanks!” she says. She takes the bar and weighs it in her hand, a decisive smile on her face for just a second before she slips the bar into her pocket. “For later,” she says.

Janis’ parents ask Maddie stuff Janis wouldn’t care for, about her school (as it happens, North Shore Middle School) and where she lives (again, as if happens, Edgewood Drive). All the while skirting around the obvious.

“Oh, my girlfriend lives there,” Janis remarks, breaking a rice cake in half. An empty packet is already sitting her lap; she hadn’t realised exactly how hungry skipping breakfast had made her. “Caddy Heron, you know her?”

“Heron? Is she the girl whose parents are zoologists?” she asks.

“The very one.”

“Oh yeah, I met them!” she answers brightly. “After they moved in my parents brought them a pie. You know, the neighbourly thing…” She leans on the chair, her eyes wide and glittering as though she’s about to drop a huge secret. “You know they used to live in Kenya?”

“Yeah,” Janis chuckles. “Yeah I knew that.”

“Oh right.” That doesn’t deter Maddie though. Quite the opposite, she shuffles closer to her, eagerness written all over her little face. When she speaks, it’s in a hushed, low voice that trembles with excitement. “She’s your girlfriend?”

“Yep. I got lucky, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. She’s really pretty. Well, she was the last time I saw her.”

“Oh she’s very pretty,” she says matter-of-factly. She reaches for her phone to show Maddie all the photos of her, but the thought of turning her phone on freezes it in its path. Turning her phone on means anyone in the world can contact her…

“I thought her name was Cady though,” she goes on, oblivious to Janis’ conflict. She shoves the phone behind her and turns to Maddie, finding it easy to get lost in conversation with her. “Not Caddy.”

“It’s Caddy in my world,” she replies, making Maddie giggle.

“So how long have you two been together?”

“Since the end of school.” There’s a blush creeping across her face that’s warm and no doubt pink coloured and her insides feel warm and gooey like a melted brownie, the way she always feels when she talks about Cady. “I asked her out and then we got dinner and saw a movie and then… you know…” She wiggles her eyebrows, Maddie’s laughing face half hidden between her hands. “Okay actually it wasn’t like that. But our first date was dinner and a movie.”

“Cool,” Maddie breathes. “I can’t wait to get my first girlfriend. Which might not happen for a while…” _Oh no_ Janis thinks. “I mean, I don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“Neither do I,” she tells her, letting out a breath. “My friend had to push me to go talk to her. If it weren’t for him we’d probably still be friends right now.” She reaches out and playfully punches Maddie’s shoulder, the pull in her gut too big to ignore. She can almost hear Damian telling her not to meddle. To which she would reply ‘how is this meddling?’. “Tell you what, kid. If you ever need a wing woman or a gay guru, you come straight to me.”

“You mean that?” Her eyes grow ever wider, to the point where Janis starts wondering if they have limits. Just like with Cady’s equations, the limit does not exist.

“Of course. Us gays have to stick together. Like Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Who are those guys?” she asks, wrinkling her nose and confusion clouding her eyes. Janis opens her mouth to explain that it’s from some old (and not that good but still culturally relevant) movie, but her dad lets out an offended gasp before she can.

“I’m sorry,” he says when he’s met with one confused face and two amused ones. “I just can’t believe kids these days have never heard of Star Wars.”

“Oh, Star Wars,” Maddie says, as though it should have been obvious. “My brother loves them. Especially the old ones.”

“Which old ones?” he asks. “The old ones or the old-old ones?”

“There’s a difference?” she mumbles, looking over to Janis with an expression that says, ‘help me’.

“It’s not that important,” Janis tells her. When she sees her dad’s face, she can tell that to him it very much is. As they keep talking, they compare each other’s favourite Disney movies, finding they both have a deep love for Tangled and Frozen, but Maddie’s love for the mouse seems to far outweigh Janis as she lists off her favourite Princesses, which one she thinks she’s most like, which one she thinks Janis is most like (“you give off kind of an Elsa-Belle vibe” she tells her, which Janis is more than happy with). She also enthusiastically tells her about her plans to visit Disney World soon and Janis tells her the one in Paris is way better.

“You’ve been to Paris?”

“A few times,” she replies, nodding towards her dad. “You probably can’t tell, but he’s French. I have a whole army of cousins out there. You seen the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve seen Notre Dame. Before it caught fire, obviously.” She blesses herself and presses a quick kiss to her fingertips. “May she RIP in peace.”

“Cool,” Maddie says. “The coolest vacation I had before this was New York.”

“Oh, I love New York,” Janis nods. “My aunt lives out there. Ever seen Broadway?”

“Yeah, we saw Lion King!” she replies. “I was like nine years old and my dad got them-”

“Janis?” Their conversation is interrupted by her nurse, who hovers in the doorway holding a clipboard and of course, a smile. “Your doctor’s ready for you.”

“Hi Nurse Lucy!” Maddie pipes up, leaning forwards in her chair.

Lucy. That was her name. Really, how could it have been anything else?

“Hi Maddie,” she says warmly, looking at the pair of them. “Making new friends?”

“Apparently, she’s the eyes and ears around here,” Janis says as she gets up. She turns back to Maddie, giving a quick wave. “See you around, kid.”

“Bye Janis.”

She stretches her legs out and hops as they walk, her body stiff from having folded itself into a chair for that long. She finishes off the rice cake and saves the other one in her pocket for later and is reminded how much she loves these little guys. Low calories (not that she cares about that), covered in chocolate and deliciously delicate. She needs to get back into these bad boys.

She also slips a bit on the floor and realises that she left her boots back with Maddie. She shrugs and makes a mental note to get them later as she steps into her room.

Her eyes land on the IV next to her bed immediately, barely acknowledging Doctor Wiley next to it. All at once, every good feeling she had built up with Maddie, every ounce of comfort and happiness is abruptly and cruelly yanked from her and she’s reminded why she’s actually here. She’s left feeling cold and winded and frozen.

Back there she could almost have tricked herself into believing she was here for a fun little vacation. So much for that.

“Janis.” She hadn’t noticed, but she’s stepped back. Where’s she going? Back to the lounge with Maddie? To the school, where Damian and Cady are? Back home?

Her mom’s hand wraps around hers and the other rubs her shoulder.

“It’s okay baby.”

“No, I know,” she says. “I know.” She forces her feet forwards, over to where the IV is. She feels her sleeves wrapping around her arms and sticking to her skin. Her arm is encased by her hand. “Okay so what’s the drill, doc?”

“Well, we’re planning to have you get a few sessions each day,” he explains. “Between two and four really. Now that we know the type of leukaemia you have and where it’s at, this is the best place to start.” 

“Sounds like fun,” she mumbles. She lowers herself on to the bed, her hand still around her arm.

“Unfortunately, it’s going to make you feel pretty bad most days,” he confesses. “But it’s going to kill the leukaemia cells as well.” She nods minutely, passively listening to him explaining the process to both her and her parents. She’s not scared of needles. At all. And she thinks that she shouldn’t be scared of this, since it’s the good thing. So why is her heart pounding so fast?

She takes off her cardigan, exposing the white t-shirt and its skull print and most importantly, her bare arms. Beneath the lights they look almost translucent. At least Nurse Lucy doesn’t have any issue finding the vein. They could be seen on Google maps like blue rivers running through a snowy mountain.

“You ready?” the nurse asks. She’s not and she never will be. But the world won’t wait for her to be ready. Nor will the cancer in her body. She twists one of the rings on her hand, a little plastic thing Cady won in an arcade game. Her fearless girl. Wouldn’t Cady want her to be fearless too?

It takes a while, but the words “I’m ready” fall from her lips and the needle goes into her vein.

“You probably know all about the sound effects by now,” Lucy explains. “Might make you a little tired, might make you feel nauseous. Or it could go the other way and make you feel stronger than normal.”

“I hope it’s the other one,” she remarks as tape is secured over her arm. “I want superpowers.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if it worked that way?” she replies as she straightens up. “Okay. This is going to take around two hours to-”

“Two hours?” she echoes in disbelief. She looks up at the little bag at the top of her IV. There’s no way there’s two hours’ worth of medicine in there.

“Afraid so,” she says sympathetically, patting Janis’ shoulder.

“What am I meant to do for the next two hours?”

“There’s a TV,” the nurse reminds her. “Normally we’d let you do this in the lounge, but since it’s your first go we want to monitor you.”

“Consider me monitored,” she replies dryly, sneaking a glance up at the bag. Absolutely no change.

“You’ve got your TV in here,” her nurse reminds her. “And I’m sure there’s loads of gadgets in your bag to keep you occupied while you wait.” She turns more to her parents than to Janis, no doubt trying to ease their worries. “I’ve got a sixteen year old. She’s never off that phone.”

She leaves with the instruction that Janis keep hydrated throughout and a promise to call back in later. Her mom turns on the TV and flicks through channels even though it doesn’t have half the channels it does at home. She settles on some cute home renovation show that should normally get her creative buzz going and lead to hours on Pinterest, but instead she only half pays attention to it, the rest of her mind jumping from the IV above her head to the flowers she’s doodling in her sketchbook to her still-off phone that sits coldly in her lap.

“How’s everyone in school?” her dad asks, likely aware of what he’s doing. She taps her fingers on the screen as though it were on and takes a swing of water.

“I’m sure they’re all fine,” she says, adding another flower to her doodle. “Damian can keep me updated with the tea tonight.”

Janis never thought she’d miss school. Even disregarding the ugly history that’s followed her around the halls, she just never grew attached to it. She’d rolled her eyes at people who told her she’d cry on her last day and swore up and down to Damian, and later Cady, that they’d be the only things she’s miss. It wasn’t like she was counting down the days to graduation, but at the same time, she wasn’t going to lose any sleep over moving on.

But now North Shore is the only place she wants to be. For the first time she wishes she were in physics writing about gravity and mass or in history learning the severely edited version of the Civil War. She’d take the cafeteria food and its health violations over corner store rice cakes any day and at least at school there’s a change of scenery every forty minutes or so. And more than anything, she misses her friends. Going this long without Damian’s warm hearted words of wisdom or Cady’s soft spoken support has been physically painful, but she’s even found herself missing Karen and Gretchen too. Who knows, maybe if this year was going normally, they’d have even become friends. She could never imagine not being in North Shore would hurt as much as it does, but here she is, sitting in near-silence with a deep, harrowing ache in her chest that’s not from the cancer nor the medicine. Like a lot of stuff she’s come across today, it’s something she’ll have to get used it.

Even with that agony it takes almost an hour for her to work up the courage to open her phone, just as the medicine is beginning to cloud her head. She presses the screen into the bed until the buzzing and pinging and ringing stop, the corner of her mouth twitching up. She’s never been so popular.

On Facebook and in all her DMs are messages from people from every cafeteria table; the band geeks, the debate team, the dance team and both sets of jocks all send her good wishes. The messages range from the stilted and awkward to the over-emotional; some offer her two to three lines hoping she’s okay and some give her miniature essays telling her how horrible it yes ( _tell me something I don’t know_ she thinks) and how brave she is and if she needs anything, anything at all, they’re here for her. Even the Christian believers have sent her little prayers, despite the clashes she’s had with them over the years. She guesses she appreciates it, despite what her inner atheist-slash-witch thinks. Isn’t it nice to have people thinking of you?

When she goes back to her feed, her face is the first thing she sees. Not her own post and not one of her friend’s either, but one put up by the North Shore account. It’s her standing in the art room holding the prize she got from the art expo, grinning at the camera so proudly you wouldn’t guess she’d just fought with someone the night before.

_‘Shout out to our brave student Janis Sarkisian, who is battling leukaemia this year. Janis is a bright star in our art program and co-founder of our new LGBT+ society. The North Shore Lions are roaring with you every step of the way, Janis!!’_

Well that’s almost sweet, she thinks. Even if the idea of lions roaring at her is a little off-putting. What’s even more off-putting is the comments on it, all sobbing about how awful it is for her, people she’s never met preaching about how brave she is and how they know she’ll fight like hell. Even though she’s alone in this room, she feels hundreds of eyes on her, none of them familiar, and the attention makes her squirm.

Biting her nail, she clicks out of Instagram and takes in a breath before checking her texts instead. She hopes to find some sanity and order in there and she almost does… until she finds a text from someone. The contact isn’t saved in her phone, but she knows who it is, and it sparks fury and disgust in her gut.

 _“Hey Janis. Hope you’re doing okay. We all got told about it in school. We’re all thinking of you. -Regina xx.”_

“Seriously?” Janis sighs, not realising she’s spoken out loud.

“Seriously what?” her mom asks with poorly masked concern. Her cheeks grow warm as she shows her mom the text and an uncertain look spreads across her mother’s face.

“Well that’s nice, isn’t it?” she says. Asks, more like.

“Not at all.” Regina George isn’t nice, ever. “And does she need to sign off her texts like that. This isn’t Gossip Girl.”

Thankfully, there are texts rom Cady and Damian to restore balance to the universe. At some point last night, she and Damian stopped using words and started using GIFs. The last thing in their chat is her sending him one of two kittens cuddling, obviously meant to be them. And after she fell asleep, Cad had texted her a sweet good night she managed to miss. Followed by a voice message, one that’s earnest and quiet and sent at 2:31am. She pops her headphones in, a myriad of emotions stirring in her foggy brain, and presses play.

_“Hey. It’s me. Of course it’s me who else would it be? I just um…. This is scary. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, you know. You know more than anyone. Anyway I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going anywhere. I meant it. And whenever you get scared or it gets intense… just call me. Or text me. Or even think of me, okay? Just think of me. I miss you. A lot. I know I saw you today but I miss you. I… you mean a lot to me, Janis. And I know you’re going to kick this thing’s butt. I know you will and I hope you know that you know you will. I also really hope you’re asleep right now instead of listening to this because if you’re not asleep I’m coming over there. I wish I could come over there. I wish I could come with you… Okay, okay, I’m getting too sappy here, so I’m going to go to sleep now. Bye, Janis. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”_

Janis lets out something that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. It reflects what’s going on in her head perfectly; all those bubbling and complex feelings boiled down to ‘half happy, half sad’. She’s fairly confident that’s the way she’ll go on for the next few weeks, and some days will have more sad than others. And she bets that the happiness is going to be harder to come by and harder to fight for on those days. So she makes a start. She sends Cady a quick ‘lol that’s gay’ message, followed up by a thank you and a little gay message of her own. Then she replays the message and feels the smile on her face grow a bit wider each time she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make a happy writer and a happy writer makes fics and fics make a happy fandom.
> 
> Also yes I updated this at 1am. Sue me. I live that life.
> 
> Stay safe and sensible in these times kids. And if you want, here are some links to ways you can help people:
> 
> https://yemencrisis.carrd.co/  
> https://pendingpetition.carrd.co/  
> https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#petitions


	6. Janis

Janis ditches the tights and jean shorts by Wednesday. There’s a slight look of ‘I told you so’ on her mother’s face, but she spares Janis the lecture out of politeness. Janis never thought she’d miss them, but here she is.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she scribbles another flower on the page, a twin for the one next to it. Not an exact twin, it’s thinner and its petals are more spiked and sharp than the one she drew before it. It’s less inviting, more dangerous. Angry, even. Like if she picked it up she’d cut her finger on it. She hadn’t intended for it to happen; in fact, she’d set out to doodle some pretty little flowers in an attempt to brighten up her sketchbook. But the pencil, as it often does, did what it wanted. She turns it on the side, trying to find a way to like it. It’s not bad work, not her best but certainly not her worst. Maybe she could like it if she had drawn it earlier, but she had really been hoping to get something nice into her book today.

With a sigh, she sets the book on her lap and swings her body around so that her feet dangle over the edge of her bed. Her next round of chemo isn’t due for a few hours, a long stretch of time to attempt to fill with activity. While she’s only been in the hospital for two full days, she’s decided that the worst part is the waiting around for the next thing to happen. Granted, much of that can be put on her as she’s spent more time in her room than she has anywhere else, distracting herself with TV and art and her parents and texting her friends every chance she can get. It all comes together and forms some kind of routine for her, one that’s built with as much familiarity and comfort as possible woven through it. The only downside to it is that the room’s been getting progressively smaller since two days ago and it wasn’t long before it started choking her. 

She left the door slightly open and peers into the hallway, the brightness of the walls striking against the cool tones of her room. She can hear the faint sounds of half-conversations that overlap with each other; nurses gossiping with each other while fiddling with IVs, the inhabitants of the longue talking and laughing about who knows what, doctors prescribing new rounds of medicine. The ward is much more alive than she had Janis ever thought it could be, a constant hum in the background of the day to day life keeps the place awake.

She taps her nails on the cover of her book, her swinging legs gaining momentum as she debates following the pull in her chest, compelling her to maybe leave her room for more than five minutes at a time and follow the sounds of conversation. Maybe talk to people who aren’t her medical team or her parents. Make some friends, because as everyone knows, cancer wards are prime social hotspots. She may not be here forever, but she’ll be here long enough to justify getting comfortable.

What’s the worst that can happen, logic had asked her that first night.

Literally so freaking much, she responded. Friends aren’t exactly her strong suit. Regina was a mistake, Damian was luck, and Cady was a gift. She could indulge her inner loser and tell herself it’s because she’s special and tailor made to a few specific people, but the thought of that makes her roll her eyes. So she faces up to the truth and all it entails; that she’s merely been unlucky in the friendship department, something that can be boiled down to one terrible experience and everything that came after it and lingers long after the smoke has cleared.

 _You’re being ridiculous_ she tells herself. If there’s a Regina George clone here, she’ll be thoroughly impressed. So she pulls her boots on and pushes herself off the bed, quickly explaining to her mom that she’s going to hang out in the longue for a bit.

“You need me to come with you?”

“I’m fine,” she says, a small smile on her face as she pulls on a cardigan. She nods at the intense competitive cooking show her mom has on the TV. “Tell me who wins. And don’t leave out any details.”

“Well we both know it’s not going to be Leticia judging by the look of that beef,” she says seriously. Janis clicks her tongue before turning and heading down, her steps smaller than normal and her sketchbook held against her chest like a shield. Her stomach twists uneasily, not from the chemo or anything like that, just from good old-fashioned anxiety. In an odd way, it’s a relief to feel ill in that way.

When she pushes herself past the open doors, all eyes turn to her and only look away to talk with other people. It’s far more populated than the last time she was here, people sitting in groups of two and three, most in pyjamas and some with hats. But all of them in groups, belonging with each other. Is this how Cady felt all those months ago, when she and Damian spotted her heading to the bathroom? Maybe her girlfriend had the right idea that day. A bathroom stall is a way better alternative to a room full of strangers.

Unfortunately, she knows better by now, and so she settles in an armchair as gracefully as she can, her legs tucked beneath her, and tries to shake off the discomfort she feels by opening her book and giving her hands something to do.

“You’re new,” a girl sitting on the floor states. She’s one of the few that actually has hair, dark brown and curly, and it makes Janis feel a little more at ease. Is that bad, she has to ask.

“Third day,” she explains, offering her a small wave. “I’m Janis.”

“Melissa,” she says. She leans back on her arms and exposes a little bandage inside her elbow. Janis pulls her own arm a little closer. Melissa doesn’t seem to notice, instead gesturing to her with her chin.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” she asks, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, just some drawings I do.”

“Cool,” she says. “So you do art?”

“Sometimes it’s like the art does me," she says dryly, earning a chuckle. “But you know how it is.”

“My best friend says that all the time,” Melissa sighs. “She says she wants to go to art college but I’ve watched her cry over trying to hand in assignments.”

“You sound like my mom,” Janis replies. “Literally every time I bring up doing art in college she tells me how stressful it is.” She shrugs lightly. “She’s not wrong, but it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Is your mom here?”

“Yeah, she’s back in my room,” she explains. “I left her watching some cooking show on TV.”

“Wow, and you’ve only just here. I’ve been here for a month and I only just got my mom to let me out of her sight,” she sighs, a resigned smile on her face and her eyebrow raised in a silent ‘you know how it is’. “Want to play some Scrabble? We’ve started keeping a scoreboard so we can add you in. We have a whole tournament going.”

“Sounds fun,” Janis says, pushing herself off the chair. “Although I should give you warning, I’m dyslexic, so I kind of suck at it.”

Janis follows her across the longue, slipping her hand into her pocket when she thinks she sees the other girl reach out to her. There’s a pang of guilt in Janis’ chest even though Melissa doesn’t seem to care, and she does her best to work through it. She exchanges names and smiles with other kids, all introduced by Melissa. It’s an odd feeling; she’s not used to being the one who’s introduced. She’s either known people so long she doesn’t need to or she’s the one making the introduction, but today her mouth feels dry and her tongue tied so much that all she can do is say ‘hi’ and try to keep up with the rest of the little group. But despite this, and despite the fact that she does supremely suck at Scrabble, they aren’t half bad. They welcome her in with no problem at all, asking her about school and life and art as they set up tiles and she knows the right questions to ask them. She laughs at their jokes and nods along to the conversation, even adding in her own take now and again as it builds into a steady flow.

It’s not entirely perfect; she can’t help but feel slightly on the outside when they bring up a nurse or a patient she doesn’t know and she’s much more quiet than she’s used to being, unsure which, if any, topics are off-limits, where the lines are. But she’s enjoying herself enough to drown out her earlier worries even if it can’t make them fade entirely, and her mood only picks up when she hears someone behind her say (squeal) her name, followed a flash of pink and rainbow appearing in her vision. How times change when a pink sweater can make her smile instead of grimace.

“Maddie!” The younger girl leans into her side, eyes bright and sparkling, and Janis puts an arm around her shoulders. “Hey kid, where have you been?”

“Where have _you_ been more like,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you since Monday.”

“Been busy,” she says. No one presses, likely because they all understand. They’ve all been where she is before. “And now I’m busy losing at Scrabble. Badly.” Maddie chuckles and when her arms wrap around Janis and chin rests on her shoulder, she can’t say no to it. There’s nothing uncomfortable about such a gesture and it almost feels as natural as hugging Damian or when Karen rests her head on her shoulder, despite her only knowing the girl for two days.

“Oh hey, did they tell you about the photography thing yet?” she asks.

“That what now?”

“Oh it’s this thing the cancer centre started,” Melissa explains. “Basically they want us to take pictures of stuff that matters to us. Us doing hobbies, us with our friends, the whole shebang. It’s meant to be about our cancer not defining us or whatever.” She gives a casual shrug. “It’s fun anyway. You should do it. Especially since you have your art thing.”

“Sounds like fun,” she says before poking Maddie in the ribs. “Now come on, kid. Help me make a word out of these.” 

And maybe it’s Maddie’s presence or just time passing, but Janis suddenly finds herself a lot less anxious. She even gets to the point where she trades playful insults with another kid, a boy around her age, and form a team up of sorts against him with one of the other girls. They can’t replace her real friends and she wouldn’t try to, the bonds she’s formed with Damian and Cady are too important and were put through too much to be replicated, but she suspects that they could quickly become new friends.

What’s more, treatments and diagnosis come in and out of the conversation with unexpected ease, and when Janis talks about her own, it’s the same. She hadn’t realised how much of this she’d held back, even in her texts and calls with Damian and talks with her mom. And while she feels bad for it, it also feels so, so good to talk to people like this. People who aren’t her parents or her doctors. People who are, well… like her.

And as it turns out, her next round is scheduled the same time as Melissa’s, and so they head down the hallway together. While Melissa continues to make conversation, Janis’ responses dwindle the closer she gets to her room. It doesn’t take long for the good feeling from the longue to fade, and the image of the needle in her vein becomes sharper in her mind.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Janis asks suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Does it…” She swallows past the lump in her throat. She finds a loose thread on her cardigan and toys with it until the question comes out. “Does it ever get easier? All this?”

“Well…” Melissa stops in their tracks and Janis almost trips as she does the same, immediately regretting asking. The other girl bites her lip, searching for the right answer. It feels like hours before she says “I don’t really know. I can’t speak for you. We’re all different here.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I guess you get used to it. So it starts getting less scary, I guess.”

Janis only nods and then Melissa reaches out and taps her arm.

“It doesn’t stop sucking,” she sighs. “You just get used to it sucking.”

“And then we all bond over it sucking?” she asks, smirking.

“You get it,” she replies with a laugh. “See you later, Janis.”

“Bye.”

After Melissa leaves, she lingers in the hallway for a minute, pressing her finger into the spot where her IV goes. The problem is exactly what Melissa said-you get used to it. And she really, really doesn’t want to get used to it. Getting used it to means that she’ll be here for a while, that something else replaces her old life. Especially now, after the year she had last year, she wants to get used to good stuff, not stuff that ‘sucks’. The idea of this, medicines and hospitals and doctors, becoming normal to her sends a shiver down her back.

But she learned a while ago how to live in reality, even when it’s not what she wants. And it’s with that attitude she walks into her room, where she finds not only her IV set up, but a text from Cady detailing something funny from her math class and how much she misses her.

Even if she gets used to everything else, she knows she’ll never, ever get used to missing Cady.

*****

Friday morning, she wakes later than she normally does. It’s a slow process at the start, sleep pulling her in and begging her to stay, the hospital-issue sheets softer than soft around her and forming a cosy cocoon that she’s so tempted to remain in.

That is, until she remembers what day it is, and then she’s jolted awake.

Friday. Or as she’s called it, Damian-and-Cady day.

It was an unspoken agreement that the two of them were visiting her in here. Just like her father, they were insistent on coming over every moment they could, with Damian jokingly suggesting he could hide under her bed and they could have a sleep over (which they had considered in seriousness and attempted to plan). But thanks to a little thing called school, and another thing called distance, today was the first day she could see them, which is why now she’s wide awake, bright eyed, bushy tailed, everything. Because she’s finally seeing them again and filling the hole in her soul being away from them had carved.

“Morning, kid,” her mom says cheerily, entering the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. “They’re still serving breakfast downstairs, or if you want it brought up to you-”

“Sounds great, Mom,” she replies, only half paying attention. She turns on her phone, her leg bouncing anxiously as she waits for it to load. Has it always been this slow at turning on? She swears it hasn’t been. It takes an eternity for her lockscreen to come up, the time written across it in thin white numbers.

“Ten thirty?” she reads out loud before her head snaps up. “Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Why would I?” she asks. “You need all the rest you can get, and you’ve still got time before you’re due a round.”

“I know,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “But Cady and I text good morning to each other and it was my turn this morning. I don’t want her to think I forgot.”

“Well, I’m sure Cady understands. You know, with all that’s going on, maybe she’s not expecting good mornings right now.”

“Course she is,” she replies quickly. In what universe would Cady not wait for a good morning from her? “It’s our thing. Didn’t you and Dad have a thing?” She types out the message and sends it quickly, although Cady probably won’t see it for at least another two hours.

“Oh, you think we did good morning e-mails back in those days?” she says, laughing a little. She sits on the bed next to her on the bed. “So are you getting some breakfast? Someone can bring it up if you don’t feel up to going down, I’ll just tell them what you want-”

“It’s fine, Mom.” She reaches under the bed and pulls on a sweater before slipping into her boots and raking a brush through her hair. “I might as well go down. Someone might take the last yogurt while I’m down there.”

Truthfully, she doesn’t really feel like eating. Not anything bad, she’s just not hungry, but it’ll put her mom’s mind at ease. Just as she thought, the tension fades from her mom’s shoulders, and when she pats her shoulder, there’s more relief in her smile than just breakfast warrants.

She eats in her room, with the TV on, like she does when she’s sick at home. She could eat in the dining room, but despite the new friends she’s made she prefers eating in private, especially away from the buzzing nurses. As she flips around the channels, her phone buzzes on the plastic table, the screen lighting up to show her a new text that makes her smile and roll her eyes at once.

_‘Good morning, babe. Can’t wait to see you today. Also, ik I can’t really change it now, but what do we think of the outfit?’_

Beneath the message is a picture of Cady in her bedroom mirror, clad in a black vest and blue flannel shirt with white skinny jeans, her hair held back in a high, loose ponytail, soft curls framing her round face, her eyes looking up at the mirror as she gives an open, toothy grin. And Janis can’t help it, she squeals. God damn it, her girlfriend is cute.

_‘Love it, love it, love it. You’re the queen of cuteness. And apparently, texting during class. Stop doing that. If I get a text from you between now and lunch I will not cuddle you later.’_

_‘I’m not texting during class, it’s study hall.’_ Wow, what on Earth has happened to the ever-studious, rule following Cady Heron? Not even Plastic Cady texted during study hall. _‘Besides, you have to cuddle with me. It’s legally required and I’m deprived of Janis cuddles.’_

 _‘Only if you be good and don’t text during school hours.’_ She fires back, chuckling under her breath. _‘And you remain that freaking adorable.’_

“Well someone’s in a good mood.” She looks up and sees Doctor Wiley standing in the doorway, and her smile dips a little, the perfect bubble she was sitting in with Cady ruined. Not enough to ruin her mood, nothing could do that, but it shakes it.

“It’s her girlfriend,” her mom explains.

“How do you know that?”

“Your smile,” she says. “It’s your ‘Cady smile’.”

“I don’t…” Her voice trails off and her mom simply shrugs. Well look at that. She’s that girlfriend now.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Wiley says, striding towards her. Under the table, Janis crosses her fingers that this is a normal good morning visit. She’ll take bad news on any day that’s not Damian-and-Cady day. “So, Janis, a lot of us on your team have been talking and we’ve decided to ask if you might want to get a port inserted.”

“A what?” she asks.

“Think of it like a little reservoir put underneath your skin,” he explains. “Just to make receiving the chemo easier on you. A lot of patients have one put in.”

“Oh, wow.” Way to bring the mood down, Doc, she thinks. Sometimes she envies the younger patients who have their parents making all the hard decisions. Still, one word sticks out in all that. “It makes it easier?”

“Quite a bit easier,” he agrees. “For one thing, it’s a lot more comfortable than an IV.” There’s a plus. “And a lower risk of your medicine leaking out-”

“Sounds cool,” she interrupts quickly before he can bring up an image she doesn’t want. “Um, can I think about it? I mean, is it urgent?”

“No, of course not,” Wiley replies with a stiff smile. “I’ll let you and your mom discuss it.”

He leaves them after an uncomfortable silence, nodding to her and her mom and reminding her that he’s around if she has any questions.

“So what do you think?” her mom asks.

“I don’t think.” She picks her phone back up and jumps off the bed. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“I put everything in your bag, it’s under the bed,” she replies. Janis pulls out her bag, sorting through the mass of denim, cotton, plaid and leather, all while her mom hovers behind her with anxious eyes that drill into her back. "Janis, you should consider this.”

“And I will,” she sighs. She pulls out a shirt she’s always liked and throws it on the bed. “Just not right now.” She shakes her head, trying to clear some of the smoke in her brain. Still sitting on the ground, she looks up at her mom and sighs. “Mom, I just want to not think about cancer stuff right now. I just want to see my friends and think about that.” She toys with the shirt in her hands and bunches it into a tight ball, her arms tense and shaking and her grip tight. “Is that okay?”

Her voice sounds impossibly broken on that question. And while it wasn’t intentional, it works on her mom, who nods and comes over to pat her hair.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, and that’s the temporary end of it.

The day passes even slower than it normally does in hospital-time. Hours stretch on and on with no end in sight and she can’t distract herself no matter what she tries to do. She can’t focus long enough to read or settle on one TV show and even games in the longue can only get her so far. She tries checking her social media when on her IV, but she’s hardly there a minute before her anxiety peaks again after seeing pictures of her friends. Besides, it’s mostly dry now, everyone else is in class.

Finally, finally, it comes to the afternoon and it’s close enough that she can justify beginning to get ready. She stretches, grateful for the little power nap she took earlier, and fishes her make-up out of her bag. It’s not everything, but it’ll have to work, as will the tiny mirror in her bathroom.

“What’s going on in here?” The voice makes Janis jump six feet, even though it’s the honey-toned voice of one of the older nurses. “Little makeover.”

“Just wanted to look nice today,” she explains as she unscrews the foundation. She’s a little bit surprised to see that she’s not out of practice since she’s been bare-faced for well over a week now. Bigger priorities and all that.

“Her girlfriend’s coming over today,” her mom says in a low voice.

“It’s not just that,” she says, even though it might be. “Damian will also be here.”

“Oh you kids and your relationships,” the nurse chuckles as she takes the empty bags out. In the mirror, Janis sees her point sternly in her direction as though she were her mother. “Just remember Janis, if she really cares about you, she won’t care how much muck you have on your face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says as she applies a coat of eyeshadow, deep indigo and sparkling under the low lights. She adds a generous amount of purple lipstick next, a shade that’s always been a favourite of hers, and four coats of mascara. Some say that’s overkill, she disagrees. Bigger, bolder, better after all.

She takes a second before looking at herself properly, and when she does it makes her happier than it has any right to be. She looks like herself again. Not a girl with cancer. A girl who is perfectly healthy and happy, the dark circles around her eyes and the pale tint to her face deliberate. Not only that, she feels stronger, even though she hadn’t been aware of any weakness before. She can breathe easier now. She’s herself again. A little winded but it was worth it.

When she’s done, Cady and Damian should get out of school in about ten minutes. They worked it all out; they’ll get the first bus from school up to the hospital, which should take about twenty-five minutes. She offered to pay their bus tickets and her mom had offered to pick them up, but neither one of them would hear any of it. Damian in particular would die before accepting money from anyone.

So she has just over half an hour. Maybe closer to forty minutes when factoring in waiting for the bus and various stops…

She probably should have left the make-up to later just to give herself something to do.

No, it’s fine. The last thing she wants is them walking in on her doing her make-up. Besides, there’s plenty to do for half an hour. She’s waited this long after all. She checks her outfit again, first in the bathroom mirror, by bouncing repeatedly, and then by using the camera on her phone. This morning she was sure about this outfit. Now she’s not sure about this skirt. Maybe if her mom had woken her up earlier she’d have had more time to plan it. The shirt is fine, it’s something Cady loves, so she won’t trade it, but the skirt… it’s not working. She grabs more stuff from her bag and lays it out on the bed, debating each one carefully. There’s a pair of studded shorts that she doesn’t think looks right with the shirt, a pair of jeans that would be far too uncomfortable, and a dark grey skirt that she’s not worn that much and is a little short-

“Holy crap,” she sighs. She shakes her head at herself. She hasn’t obsessed this much over her looks since middle school. “You’re insane, Sarkisian. You’re fine.”

They’ve both seen her look worse, surely.

She forces herself to sit on the bed and just watch some freaking YouTube like a normal person. She gets a text from Damian telling her they’re on their way, and she takes a deep breath and sends a response. She then has one eye on the phone and one eye on the window, all the while counting the minutes until they should be here.

Twenty five minutes. One video later, it’s twenty one. Another video, eighteen. Another video, plus a sip of the coffee her mom got her, fourteen. Another video, plus re-checking her make-up, ten. Another video, six. Another video, three.

And now they should be here. They probably are; they’re probably walking through the lobby. Maybe the elevator’s a little slow, maybe they got lost. This is a big place and they don’t even know where they ward is. Do they? Did she tell them? She grabs her phone and checks their groupchat, scrolling through the week-

“Janis?” Her name is accompanied by a soft knock on the door, and when she looks up, Cady is standing in the doorway, looking even more beautiful than she did that morning with a breathless smile and dimples in her cheeks. And everything else she was feeling melts away.

Janis doesn’t care about dignity, she runs over and throws her arms around her. As Cady hugs her back just as fiercely, Janis fights the urge to pick her up off the floor.

“I missed you,” Cady whispers into her shoulder.

“I missed you more,” she replies, certain that she’s correct.

“Well I’ll just go then,” Damian jokes. “If you two need a moment alone.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she tells him seriously, jumping into his embrace. He runs his hand through her hair and even rocks her and everything about his embrace feels right.

“Got you these,” he says when they eventually pull apart. He presents her with a bunch of white flowers wrapped in silver paper. The scent is just like the gesture; so sweet it makes her well up.

“Oh you losers,” she says. “I love them.”

“Hi kids,” her mom greets from her chair in the corner. To be honest, Janis had actually forgotten her mom was there. So her mom has watched her run across the room and tackle-hug Cady. Nice. “How was school?”

“It’s fine,” Cady replies. “You know… senior year….”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” she says fondly. “I’ll give you kids some alone time.” She gives Janis’ shoulder a squeeze before heading out, and then Janis can hold Cady’s hand as tightly as she wants and pulls the two of them to the bed, utterly giddy at having them at her side again.

 _Even if it won’t last_ a voice in her head whispers.

“So come on, what have I missed?” she asks. “Other than you two, I mean. Tell me everything. Spill all the tea. I crave gossip!”

“It’s been a week, Jan,” Cady tells her, grinning and swinging her legs as her feet don’t touch the floor. “But, you do know that you’re talking to the newest captain of the North Shore Mathletes.”

“Come on then.” Janis digs her elbow in her girlfriend’s ribs. “Tell me everything.”

That’s all the incentive Cady needs.

She babbles on about her plans for the new year as Captain, how she’s already getting new recruits and she’s even allowed to invite freshmen and create Junior Mathletes, how she’s sure that membership is going to be double what it was last year (at which point Damian reminds her that there were only three people on the team last year), and about how they’re already starting to put together teams for a few contests, more than last year, and of course, how she’s ready to defend their state champion title. With each word, Janis’ heart grows warmer, the sense of security she’s craved all week settling and wrapping around her like her favourite blanket, and their hands lie intertwined on the bed a though they’d never been apart.

“So that’s my life…” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and covers Janis’ hand with hers. “But what about you, what’s it like in here?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she scoffs. “I’m always fine.” Cady’s smile dips, not enough, but Janis notice and let out a sigh. “I mean it’s not the ideal situation. But I’m… coping?”

“I do not like that inflection,” Damian adds, leaning back on the bed and raising an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t,” she says. “Like, it’s not too bad. You know… the food is actually pretty good, we have some cool stuff in the longue, they know how to keep us occupied. The doctors are all great. Including one hot med student I’m considering setting Damian up with.”

“Consider my attention grabbed,” he says. “How hot are we talking here?”

“Like… Okay I’m not into dudes, so I’m not that great at guessing, but he’s a solid 7.5,” she explains. “Would be a 9 but he stabbed me several times while trying to find a vein.”

“He did what?” Cady squeals, making the two of them jump. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “He stabbed you?”

“Woah, yeah.” She grasps Cady’s shoulder and silently bites her tongue. She rubs it in circles, bringing her back down. “And it hurt for a few seconds and I was slightly annoyed by it. And then we laughed about it.” She strokes Cady’s cheek carefully. “Nothing bad, Caddy.”

“Okay.” Cady lets out a breath and shakes out her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” She plays a kiss on her cheekbone, the tension fleeing Cady’s body as she does so. She tangles her fingers in her hair. She even missed her hair. “It’s cute that you worry so much.”

“I always worry about you.” At that moment, Damian turns his attention to the window, and Cady rests her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis wraps her arms around her. This, the fearful looks and causing anxiety to her, this is what Janis wanted to avoid in the first place.

Damn Cady Heron and her unflinching loyalty.

“You’re feeling okay though?” she asks quietly. “Right?”

“Okay’s a bit of a relative term these days,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit bleh. But it’s fine.” Cady murmurs something she guesses is an agreement and nestles closer to her. Janis rubs her hand up and down her arm. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She presses her cheek into her head and closes her eyes, only for a moment.

“Anyway, enough of that stuff,” she says, bouncing and turning to Damian, beckoning him back over. “There’s got to be more that I’ve missed. Come on, spill.”

“Well…” Damian begins, spinning around to face them with a grin stretched across his face. He’s been waiting to tell her this, she can tell. “They’ve announced that the musical this year will be… drum roll.”

She can Cady drum their hands on their legs, the sound bouncing off the walls and making the room tremble with anticipation as it gets higher and faster until-.

“Cabaret!”

“No way!” she gasps. Damian nods excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands together. “Stars have aligned, mon amie. Stars have aligned.”

“Which means,” he goes on, throwing himself down on the bed with such gusto that it bounces. “I am going to be the greatest Emcee that North Shore High would ever wish to have.”

“Damn right!” The two high five, their glee double that of the slightly out of the loop Cady. “Emcee has been one of Damian’s dream roles ever since middle school.”

“Ever since I came out of the damn womb!” he exclaims. “I cannot tell you how much I screamed when the drama club announced it.”

“I can,” Cady adds. “It was loud and long and he got several death glares from everyone else.”

“That’s the only appropriate way to react,” Janis chuckles. “We watched the movie way back when and that’s when he decided he was going to play the Emcee or die trying.”

“It’s also when Janis became gay for Liza Minelli.”

“I’m gay for myself,” she corrects. “Liza was just the object of young Janis’ affections.” She rests her chin on Cady’s shoulder and smiles at him. “I’m helping you prep for this. I don’t care if I have to break out of here with an IV in my arm, I’m helping you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he replies. “Also the drama club is devastated you can’t do the set this year.”

“Who the heck says I can’t?” she says indignantly. “Those morons they have won’t last five minutes without my guidance. And I will not have your shining moment ruined by a subpar set.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “We all know who really runs that drama club.”

“Oh really, madame,” Damian scoffs, turning so his leg is folded beneath him. Janis keeps smiling, despite the feeling that its being tugged down and the weight settling in her stomach. Of all the times he had to do Cabaret, why did it have to be now?

“Everyone really missed you at school,” Cady tells her.

“Bet it’s not everyone,” she says, half joking. “Not one person in particular.”

“Hey!” Cady slaps her arm. “Be nice.”

“I promised to play nice to her face,” Janis reminds her. “Not behind her back.” Cady huffs out a laugh, her face slightly scrunched up. “But how’s the most important thing; LGBT+ society?”

“Well, we’re having our first welcome back meeting on Wednesday,” Damian says. “And Gretchen is taking over your stall at the fair. Sonja’s going to help her out though,” he adds. “And Sonja’s taking over your spot on the committee too.”

“Good choice,” she says. Lovely as Gretchen is most of the time, Janis isn’t sure she could handle the pressure of running her stall. And Sonja’s the perfect choice to take over her committee spot, smart as a whip, decisive and funny as hell.

So why does the idea make Janis so uneasy?

“Yeah, why don’t we turn this TV on?” she says, grabbing the remote. “It apparently has Netflix, although I’m not entirely sure how to operate it. There’s a load of DVDs in the longue as well.”

“A DVD. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Damian says.

“I don’t think they have Cabaret though,” she sighs. “Which would be perfect for us right now.” She’s telling half-truths, because there’s a substantial collection of old movies, including musicals, but she doesn’t really want to brave the longue now, or to take them in there. The longue is probably her favourite place in the hospital, but it’s bound to be full right now. And for now, she wants to keep her cancer world and the real world separate.

So with some fussing, they manage to find Netflix and learn how to work it. Cady is insistent that Janis pick the movie, since it’s her room and she doesn’t know half of them and has already watched the other half. At the start of the summer, Janis had made Cady a list of every movie she needed to watch, and by the end of August they’d almost made it to the halfway mark. The best part wasn’t the movies themselves; it was the movie nights. Huddled under a comforter and surrounded by pillows, Cady’s body pressed against hers and the lights down low, buttery popcorn and sugar-covered candies keeping them going until one (usually Cady) fell asleep.

Now they make do with the thin hospital bed and the near-plastic sheets. At least they can adjust the height of it, and Janis positions Cady against her and Damian sits in the comfiest chair to watch The Parent Trap. It’s none of their favourites, but it’s familiar and good enough and while it wasn’t on the list, Cady hasn’t seen it yet. Besides, Damian can make any more fun.

And really, Janis can’t take any more of the back and forth debate.

The more the movie goes on, the more normal Janis feels. She runs her fingers up and down Cady’s bare arms, her girlfriend’s jacket discarded across a chair like she would in her house. The conversation is light and easy and full of giggles even at the stupidest, silliest thing, Damian quoting along with the movie and Cady hopelessly lost, especially at around halfway through when Janis decides to tell her that Annie and Hallie were played by the same person.

“No way!” she declares. “I’m not believing you until I see proof.”

“Google it,” she says. “Damian?”

“Way ahead of you.” He pulls up the page and shows her the cast list, with one little Lohan billed as the two twins. Cady’s mouth falls on the floor, her shoulders shaking in a silent, disbelieving laugh.

“Jesus Christ!” she says. “How did they do that all the way back then?”

“Movie magic,” Janis replies, wiggling her fingers for effect. “It’s okay, Caddy, we all felt betrayed when we first found out.”

“Didn’t she go off her rocker a bit?” she asks, pointing to the screen. “I know that much. Regina told me.”

“A little,” Janis agrees. “But I kind of feel bad for her, you know?”

“I guess.”

“Oh. Oh!” The camera pans up, revealing the striking and scary figure of Meredith Blake, and Janis squeezes Cady’s arms. “I hated this bitch.”

“I hated her more,” Damian adds, his tone not 100% light. “When I first watched this I had this soon-to-be stepmom, because my dad was back in the dating game, and she was…” He gags and points down his throat.

“Real mature, Damian,” Janis jokes. “I mean she absolutely was, but still. Mature.”

“Okay, missy,” he laughs. “Nah but I used to try to get inspiration from how to deal with her from this movie.”

“Shh!” she hisses sharply, covering Cady’s ears. “Spoilers!”

“I can still hear you,” Cady tells her. “And I could sort of guess. All the movies about step parents do that kind of thing, don’t they? Bratty kid gets wreaks havoc on the step parent?”

“Are you saying thirteen year old me was a brat?” Damian asks.

“Seventeen year old you is also a brat,” Janis teases. Damian gasps and grabs the cushion from the chair, aiming it at her head. Part of her is completely sure he wouldn’t, not in a hospital, part of her is completely sure he would because of course he would.

She doesn’t find out either way, because their gathering is interrupted by her medical team, and the weight in her stomach comes back with a vengeance.

“Not getting in the way are we?” Nurse Lucy asks.

“Not at all,” she says. Before she stops herself, she’s already pushing Cady off her. Heat rises in her cheeks. “That time again?”

“Unfortunately so,” she replies as Cady slides off the bed. “Is it okay if Jackson does it this time?”

“Yeah, sure.” As she rolls up her sleeve, her friends catch on to what’s happening, and Damian rushes to Cady’s side.

“I promise I’ll find the vein this time,” Jackson jokes.

“Oh this is the one you said-” Cady is cut off by Janis making a small ‘cut it out’ gesture with her hand. She then raises an eyebrow at Damian, whose small smirk tells her everything she needs to know.

She takes a look at her IV and her bare arm before turning back to them. She still hates this; shockingly, she hasn’t gotten used to it in under a week. Her stomach still drops a hundred feet when she looks at the needle and her chest tightens even if she’s only thinking about it.

“You guys don’t need to watch this,” she tells them. “It doesn’t hurt. But if you need to look away, it’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Cady tells her. When Janis looks down though, she sees how tightly she’s holding Damian’s hand.

“Okay,” she says.

This time around it only takes Jackson three tries to find her vein before securing it with the bandage. Good for him. He’s learning.

“You know the drill by now?” Lucy asks.

“Two hours, stay hydrated.” She gives her a two-fingered salute.

“Two hours?” Cady echoes, and Janis has to chuckle at it. “This takes two hours?”

“That’s what she said the first time she found out,” Lucy says, gesturing to Janis. “I can see why you two like each other so much.”

“No but… two hours,” she says again as they leave. “What do you do for two hours?”

“I just… sit here I guess,” she answers, looking up at the medicine. “You know, there’s TV. I have books. I draw. Sometimes it knocks me out and I get a little surprise nap, so that’s fun.”

“Is that… should we go?” Cady asks. “If you’re going to-”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.” She’s such a liar it’s a wonder her tongue hasn’t turned black and crumbled. “Come on. Let’s finish the movie at least.”

Cady lays beside her rather than on her, and Damian stays on the other side of the bed, away from her IV. She catches him once or twice, watching the drip instead of the movie. His gaze is unreadable, and since she’s always been able to know his thoughts without him speaking, it unsettles her.

It’s not long before that familiar tiredness descends on her, clouding her mind and pulling her downwards. And she fights it; she keeps her eyes open despite how they itch and shifts her body when she finds herself too comfortable lest she start drifting off. It’s a challenge, not just because of the medicine’s effect on her, but because of Cady’s warmth next to her, promising security and comfort and being there when she wakes up.

And she must have given into it at one point, because she opens her eyes after a blink and the movie is over; Nick and Elizabeth are together again, Annie and Hallie stay with each other forever, happy endings all around.

“What time is it?” Janis asks.

“Nearly five,” Damian explains. Visiting hours don’t end for another two hours. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” she asks. “I’m fantastic.”

“You sure?” Cady’s hand is on hers, slowly linking their fingers together. Janis squeezes her hand, clarity coming into her mind by her own will.

“Of course I’m sure.”

They don’t have to be home for another hour. Home for dinner, that’s the rule. That doesn’t really change. Damian tells her that his mom is thinking about her every day and was beside herself when she heard the news.

“She’s started following more baking blogs,” he tells her. “So prep yourself for a lot of baked goods on your doorstep.”

“I can’t object to that,” she says. “Especially since Val always bakes with love.”

At some point during the hour, Janis pulls Cady into her lap again, or Cady crawls into it, or both. Her head is under her chin and her back against her chest, slotting into place perfectly. Like if she holds her this close, she won’t have to leave.

Wishful thinking, she knows, because when it gets close to six, Cady picks up her jacket and her backpack and there’s nothing but empty air against Janis’ body.

She wishes she could lead them to the door, but her IV catches on everything, so they say their goodbyes where they are.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she warns them teasingly.

“I hardly ever think about you,” Damian replies, his voice thick.

“And you,” she tells him. “Better run lines with me. When’s auditions?”

“Next Thursday,” he tells her. “So I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” she says. “I have treatments at 11, at 2… You know what? I’ll text you them.”

“Okay. And you were right by the way. That med student is a snack.” They laugh, and then there’s a moment of silence before he folds her in his arms, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck and his hand cupping the back of her head. “Take of yourself, okay?” His voice is so soft, so desperate, that it sounds like a plea.

“I will,” she says. “I always do.” Knowledgeable as always, he gives her and Cady space to say goodbye themselves. She rubs her hand on her shorts, nervousness gripping her body in a way she hasn’t felt in a while and she thoroughly dislikes.

“I’ll text you the second I get home,” Cady says. “And can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course you can,” she says. “As long as you get some homework done tonight, kid.”

“I will,” she says. “I didn’t get the top grade in Norbury’s class for nothing.” Cady takes in a deep breath, her hand fidgeting around her backpack strap and her hair half-hiding her face. Janis reaches out and pushes it back and if she notices her shaking hand, she doesn’t say anything.

“Caddy-”

Janis actually wasn’t sure what she was going to say there, but it doesn’t matter, because Cady steps up and kisses her. It’s not perfect; it feels clumsy and awkward and they bump against each other, but it’s everything Janis needs. So much so that when they pull away, she doesn’t even attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers, grinning. “I’ll see you soon.” She steals another peck.

“See you later, Janis,” she whispers. They don’t stop holding hands for as long as they can and Janis is still looking at her until she’s out of view, walking back down the hall with Damian, maybe getting lost again. Down the hall, to the right, into the elevator and out the double doors. Bus stop down the street, next stop home. They ride together until Damian gets off and Cady stays on. All the while she stays here, IV in arm and her phone buzzing, talking to them until she falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if I said the next chapter is a new POV? 
> 
> Comments and kudos make happy writers, and happy writers make fics, and fics make a happy fandom.
> 
> And if you felt like helping people out, here is a carrd with loads of issues to choose from: https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co/
> 
> As always, stay safe and sensible, kiddos.


	7. Damian

Unlike most of his peers, Damian isn’t excited at all about moving out. There’s a lot he loves about living at home-having a mom who cooks him his own meals, not having to pay bills, living withing walking distance of his best friends and a not having to do his own laundry. All those little conveniences are things he’ll miss sorely when that day comes, but the biggest reason has nothing to do with any of that. No, the reason he dreads moving out is because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to find a roommate that will put up with his constant singing around the house. Especially around audition time.

Which is why now, he’s practicing his rendition of _Dressing Them Up_ in his bedroom, his mom being incredibly cool about the whole thing downstairs and Janis on Facetime, earbuds in and bopping along with him and giving him more enthusiasm than the actual audience probably will.

“You sound great.” She’s sitting cross legged on her hospital bed in a sweater and leggings, her face more bare than it was yesterday, but her eyes still bright and laugh lines creased around her eyes and mouth. She’s still her.

It was tough, seeing her for the first time, but weirdly, it wasn’t nearly as tough as he thought it would be. Once he got past the strangeness of the hospital environment and the little emotional hiccup she had with Cady, he knew she’s still her. Hard situation, uncomfortable new world, but still his Janis.

“You think so?” he says. “I don’t know about this song. All the forums say it’s a really good song to audition for the Emcee with.”

“And it’s your party piece,” she tells him. “Remember freshman year, you sang it for my grandpa?”

“I miss your grandpa,” he sighs.

“I’ll let him know. He calls me weekly now.” She shifts on the bed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Before he even realises what she’s doing, he checks her arm. No IV in there. Why does that make him feel better? “So do you think you’re going to change it?”

“Should I?” he asks, looking through his music. “The audition’s tomorrow. I don’t know if I can research and learn a new song by tomorrow.”

“Then don’t,” she tells him. “You’re overthinking it.”

“You’re telling me off for overthinking,” he says rather indignantly, raising an eyebrow at her. “This is the same girl who texted me at 2 in the morning for my opinion on a dog meme to send to Cady.”

“I needed a second opinion,” she says.

“Thought you didn’t need opinions,” he teases.

“Maybe I need yours,” she says softly, the grin on her face lighting up the screen. “Dick.”

“Don’t even love you,” he replies, blowing a kiss softly to the screen. Janis giggles, hiding her face behind her hand.

“Okay, you have the scene worked out as well?”

“I think so.” He picks up the extract from his bed. He’s done it for everyone, Janis, his mom, Janis’ mom, Cady, even the plastics. He learned that day that Gretchen is amazing at giving weirdly specific compliments and also knows more about theatre than he’d have guessed. Maybe in another life she’d be a drama geek like him. “It’s just an audition anyway. They’re not looking for the finished product. Just potential.”

“And you my good man are 6’2” of raw mother fucking potential.”

“Janis, language!”

“Raw mother freaking potential. Sorry, mom.” Somewhere behind the phone, Janis’ mom says something and Janis chuckles, rolling her eyes. “I’m not allowed to cuss in here. Since this is a ‘children’s ward’.” She quotes the word with her fingers. “Which is apparently where I belong.”

“You are a children,” he reminds her.

“I am older than you!” she spits back, laughter shaking her voice. She leans back on the bed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. The joke slips from her face, leaving soft sincerity in its place. “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t get nervous.” She raises her eyebrow at him, of course. By now she can see into his brain like there’s a little window on his forehead. It’s why he can’t bullshit with her, and conversely, why she can’t with him. “A little. I just really want a good role, you know. It’s our last show.”

“Which is why you’re going to ace that audition so hard,” she tells him. “Just don’t drink dairy in the morning and do your breathing before you go in. And stay away from the candy!”

“Pity you’re not here to remind me,” he says.

“True, but I did take the liberty of passing on all the info to Cady,” she tells him. “She knows what to do.”

“You’re a hero, babe.”

“Don’t I just know it,” she says. “Are you going to do the whole ‘dress for the part you want’?”

“Of course.” He runs over to his wardrobe and shows her the outfit he’d picked out for tomorrow, black silk waistcoat and black skinny jeans, his dance shoes in his bag. “What do we think?”

“Oh, that’s so sexy,” she tells him. “We need to bring waistcoats back to the collective again. I miss them.” Before he can answer, she looks beyond the camera, nodding along to a conversation he can’t hear. She casts an anxious glance at him, so quickly that he would have missed it if he blinked. “Okay. Okay, yeah fine, I know. Okay fine.” She turns back to him, letting out a long exhale that makes the hair on his arms stand up. He can’t help it; he has built-in parental instincts and they’ve been heightened ever since Janis went to hospital. So much so that even when she flashes up a peace sign and grins, it’s hard for him to grin back. “I have to bounce. Go get a good night’s sleep, ace it tomorrow, and tell the drama club that my services are still available.”

“I’ll let them know,” he says. He sits on the bed, tucking one leg under his body. He’s reluctant to let her go, their time together so precious now. “I love you, honey pot.”

“Love you more, bitch.” Her face freezes and then she’s gone. Not gone, he corrects himself. Just… not around for him right now.

“Okay,” he exhales, giving himself a shake. She’s fine. She said she was fine, she looked fine, she is fine. And she will be fine. She even said that she might be well enough to come see him in the show, all things going smoothly. The thought alone is enough to make him smile. Of course she will. The show won’t be for months anyway. He just has to get through this first. So he picks up his music and bounces down the stairs, ready to treat his mom and sisters to yet another rendition.

*****

It’s just after second period when the nerves do start to kick in. He’s not scared or intimidated, he can’t be he approaches auditions the way Cady would a calculus test, as a thrilling challenge to be overcome and a way to improve, whatever the outcome. But like he said to Janis, it’s his last year. He’s not gotten parts before but would be different. He wouldn’t throw a fit or leave the show if he didn’t get it, those types of divas make him cringe so much it hurts. But he can’t shake the idea that it wouldn’t be as special if he were in the ensemble in his last year. Besides, this is his part. Always has been.

“Hey.” He jumps off the floor, so wrapped up in his own thoughts he’d barely noticed the person sliding up beside him. He’s even more surprised when he sees who it is; Regina, wearing a lacrosse jersey over her white dress and a smile that’s uncharacteristically apprehensive. Since when did Regina George doubts? More to the point, since when did Regina talk to him? He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even know his name until Cady told him. He just assumed he was ‘Janis’ gay friend’ to her, nothing more. The same way she’s nothing more than ‘asshole Queen Bee I’d punch given the chance’ to him.

“Hi,” he says flatly. Her smile falters at his tone, and he has to hide his own smirk behind his locker door. Someone clearly isn’t used to not being given the golden treatment.

“So… how’s Janis doing?”

And the surprises keep on coming.

“You care?” he snorts.

“Yeah, I do.” Her tone is more defensive this time, the familiar anger that’s become her trademark making an appearance. Somehow, she sounds more natural this way. She shakes her head and tosses her dark hair over her shoulder. “You’ve talked to her recently, I’m guessing.”

“Of course I have. She’s my best friend,” he fires back, suddenly finding _himself_ on the defence. Heat prickles on his skin and he wants nothing more than to get out of this conversation.

“I just… wanted to know how she’s doing,” she says, her voice quiet and her arms crossed over her chest. He closes the locker door and looks at her, trying to find some semblance of the ruthless predator he knows rather than the timid, vulnerable creature before him. It’s unsettling, seeing her like this, and he’s almost certain it’s a trap. “So how is she?”

“She’s great.” He slams the locker door closed and now it’s her turn to jump. “Janis is doing great. And she’s being let out for a week on Friday. So, she’s great.”

“O-okay,” she replies. She picks at her nails, her eyes growing wide. It’s only when she takes a step back that he can breathe again. She gives an attempted smile and it doesn’t look right on her face. “That’s cool. That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.” He puts his bag on his shoulder and pushes past her. Admittedly, he does feel a little guilty here. Regina’s a horrible person, but she’s still a person, right? Maybe she is worried about Janis, that there’s some sincerity beneath the make-up.

No. Of course not. And if Regina wanted his respect, she should have started back in middle school. And in any case, why is he even thinking about Regina? He’s got way bigger things to worry about today than her.

He checks his phone at lunch, finding nothing from Janis. Which is normal these days. Normal re-adjusted pretty quickly and she’s just finished another round right about now, so she’s probably resting from that. Besides, no news is good news, as his mom likes to say.

“Damian. Damian!”

“Woah, yeah, I’m here.” He shakes his head, grabbing the side of the table. He really needs to tune back in today. Cady is sitting beside him, her hand on his shoulder and her eyes big with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” he says, patting her hand. “Just daydreaming, kid.”

“Okay.” Silence settles over them, tight and uncomfortable. It hurts. Janis’ absence hasn’t rocked their friendship at all, but at the same time it’s felt like there’s been something missing since the start of the year. And that there’s constantly something going unsaid with them. “When’s your audition?”

“T minus four hours,” he tells her. “They’re after school.”

“Speaking of I see you’ve broken out the two-litre bottle of water.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asks. “Honey, I am a professional.”

“A professional drama queen,” she teases. “You think you’re ready?”

“As I can be. My mom and sisters all gave me a standing ovation,” he says proudly. “And I think my cat liked it.”

“I mean that’s all the validation you need,” she says. “When you go into your first Broadway audition, all you need to tell them is how highly your cat recommends you.” They burst into laughter as Karen and a forlorn-looking Gretchen sit down next to them, Karen holding the other girl’s hand and looking helplessly at Cady and Damian.

“Hey, what’s up, Gretch?” Cady asks. Without a word, Gretchen slides a crumpled sheet of math questions over the table and lets out a huff. Despite trying not to look, Damian can’t help noticing the score at the top, and the “see me” written at the bottom. Cady’s face falls instantly as she takes in a sharp breath. “Well, it’s just the second week. And it’s one homework.”

“Oh, what’s the use,” Gretchen sighs. “I’m never going to get it. It’s all so complicated. I wish I had a brain like yours, Cady. You’re super great at math.”

“Well you’re good at stuff too,” Cady responds.

“Yeah,” Karen agrees. “Like you’re super good at English. And at picking out clothes.”

“I don’t think Ms Gardner will appreciate me picking out clothes,” she says glumly. “Besides, I need to get better at math this year. For one thing, my dad will totally kill me if I get another C.”

“Well… hey why don’t I tutor you?” Cady offers, changing Gretchen’s entire demeanour in an instant. She sits up and gasps, a smile breaking out across her face and lighting up the cafeteria.

“You would? Really?” she squeaks.

“Of course! I mean, I did all this stuff last year, so I know it well. What do you say?”

“Oh, thank you so much!” She reaches out the table and grabs Cady’s hand, and judging by Cady’s face, it’s stronger than you might think for Gretchen’s slight frame. “This makes me feel so much better.”

“What does?” Regina sits down beside her, looking from Cady to Gretchen and funnily enough, avoiding Damian entirely.

“Oh, Cady’s going to tutor me in math,” Gretchen explains.

“Oh, cool,” Regina says. “You know that’ll look great on a college application.”

“Yeah. I mean of course that’s not the only reason I’m doing it,” Cady replies, smiling at Gretchen. “But I know. All I’ve heard since we got back is ‘college applications’.”

“Me too,” Damian sighs. “And I am not looking forward to telling Miss Meyer I want to do theatre.” He rolls his eyes and mimics shooting his head.

“Oh, hey Damian, Cady?” Karen asks. “Can I ask you something.”

“Um… sure?”

“What kind of muffins does Janis like?” The four of them all fall quiet, Damian looking to a confused Cady before back at Karen, who seems to be the only one who sees the sense here.

“Muffins?” he echoes.

“Mm-hm. Well, I want to bake her muffins to cheer her up, and since you two are her besties, I thought you’d know,” she explains. “Trust me, there’s nothing worse than bringing someone the wrong muffins. One time my cousin brought my other cousin muffins that weren’t her favourite and I was so, so ashamed for her.”

“Oh, okay,” he says. Karen nods severely, apparently taking the muffins incredibly seriously. “Um… she really likes raspberries I guess. Oh, and white chocolate. That’s one of her favourite combos.”

“Perfect!” she chirps. “I’ll start shopping for those tomorrow. I told my mom about her and she said she might like something sweet.”

“That’s… really nice,” he says. Life with the former-Plastics is a surprise even after spending the summer with them. He isn’t sure how ‘former’ he’d consider them, especially Regina, but they’re softer than they were a year ago. Gretchen more caring, Karen more kind. Or maybe they were always like that and he simply didn’t notice.

As they get up to leave, he takes out his phone and checks it. Still nothing from her.

He walks Cady to her next class, the two of them being on the same floor.

“Should I wait for you until your audition’s done?” she asks him.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he says, patting her on the back. “Go live your life, little one.”

“Okay, but…” She rests her head on his shoulder and warmth sparks in his fingers and a stupid grin crosses his face. “Would you like me to wait until after your audition? We can go to the donut place after?”

“Did Janis tell you to do that?” Grabbing donuts after auditions to unwind has been their tradition since middle school.

“Well, yeah,” she says, shrugging innocently. “Just thought it would be cool. It’s what you always do, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah of course, totally. That’d be awesome.” They stop outside her history classroom. “Okay, I will see you later.”

“I’ll be in the library,” she explains. “You can meet me there?”

“Awesome blossom.” They have a quick high-five before he sets off down the hall to American Literature. As he goes, he finds a small but fierce sense of anxiety sparking in his chest and he can’t work out what it’s for. Probably the audition. After all, no amount of experience can chase away the terror of this process. Waiting around, learning and re-learning lines, sitting by his computer waiting for an email and fighting through crowds to see the cast list. He puts up a confident face, but that will never stop shaking him.

He takes out his phone again, just to check the time and location again. There’s nothing from Janis again, which is fine. Completely.

“Damian Hubbard.” He halts and looks up at the face of his Literature teacher, Mr Bock. He’s not great, but he’s not awful either. Once upon a time he may have actually liked kids. “Is that phone meant to be out during school hours?”

“No, sir,” he replies, sliding it back into his pocket and hoping for the best.

“Well come on, you’re in my class next and I won’t have anyone being tardy.”

“No, sir,” he repeats, doubling his pace and making it into the classroom, looking up at the clock as he does so. Just three more hours to go.

*****

He spends the time waiting for his slot breathing and doing small vocal warm-ups, enough to get him ready but not enough to irritate anyone else. As well as consoling a fearful looking little freshman kid. There are few things in the world that warm his heart quite as much as seeing new faces in auditions and watching them bloom during the show. He always makes sure to build connections with each and every one of them, taking up the role he wished someone had done for him. By the time Damian’s name is called, the freshman is grinning and his hands are nearly steady and he even whispers ‘good luck’ before he goes in.

“Afternoon all,” he greets the panel; Miss Petersen, the director/oldest drama teacher, and the perky little new one, fresh out of teaching college and rearing to go, as well as the choreographer and head of the drama club. Three familiar faces and one new, all smiling back at him. Something he tells every freshman; they want to cast you. He hands the sheet music to the girl at the piano and takes his spot, always remembering to smile and compliment her.

“Hi Damian, how are you?” Petersen asks.

“I’m great,” he replies. He clears his throat slightly, not having realised how tight it was. Did he not warm up enough? “Ready to go.”

“Okay so what song have you picked for us today?” the new teacher asks. Miss Hadsell, someone said her name is. She’s cute, with wide dark eyes and blonde hair in a messy braid. He wonders if she also takes art, he hasn’t seen her around the art room.

Then he remembers he hasn’t been in the art room this year.

“I have picked _Dressing Them Up_ from Kiss of the Spider Woman,” he says brightly, bringing himself back. Here and now, that’s what matters.

“Good choice,” Miss Petersen says. “And you’ll be reading for the part of the Emcee?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay.” She grins at him, although it doesn’t really do anything to bring his focus back. What is wrong with him today?

He takes two deep breaths, and then another, and quickly shakes out his hands before nodding to the pianist. Once the song starts, he’ll be fine. Lost in the music, laser focussed. And he is. After missing the first note. He’s never missed a note before. Still, he manages to pick up the rest of it and keep going, throwing everything into it.

But it doesn’t feel enough. Like something is holding him back. Every time he’s sang this song before it’s come as naturally as breathing, the movements coming from _him_ , not a character or persona. Now nothing feels right. Like he’s on a string and someone else is moving his limbs and every gesture is artificial.

By the time he finishes, it’s almost a relief. And he’s never thought that about performing.

“That was great!” Miss Hadsell says. “You must love that song a lot.”

“It’s an old favourite of mine,” he agrees. He can still bring this back. Maybe it was better than he thought.

He reads through two scenes for them before he’s asked to leave. At least those are stronger, partially because he knows them like the back of his hand. He feels more himself in them, or rather he feels more like the character. Even if his mind’s still a little fuzzy, it clicks for him. If only it could have happened earlier.

Rather than running right to the library and Cady afterwards, he sinks down onto a bench in an empty corridor, wringing his hands together. He doesn’t remember ever feeling that nervous or having an audition like that. Not even when he was a kid. Being in drama clubs since he could walk chased away the strong jitters that could affect him like that. So what happened in there?”

 _You know_ a voice in his head whispers. He goes to wave it off, but he can’t quite do it. Because what if there’s some truth in it. He’s worried about Janis, he’s only human. But he has it under control. She’s getting what she needs and she’ll be back with him by Christmas, and they’ll move forward like nothing ever happened. He presses his fist into his palm and bites his cheek. He’s handling it, and his own issues have never affected his performances before. Why would they now?

 _There’s no point in worrying now_ , he tells himself. _It’s over, so just go home, tell everyone it was fine and whatever happens, happens._

It’s with that mantra that he gets up and heads to the library to pick up Cady.

*****

The next day is Wednesday and when he wakes up he’s suddenly immensely excited and won’t pretend he doesn’t know why. As his mom likes to say, ‘Wednesday is halfway to the weekend’. Which is enough of a reason to be happy in itself, but this means something more. It means it’s two days until Janis gets out of hospital and three days until they hang out again. They arranged it a few days ago; a movie night in her place, just like always, with blankets and pillows and junk food and an equal balance of musicals and old sci-fi and horror. So he can’t not be excited, so much so that it’s enough for him to block out the memories of his audition yesterday.

So when he half-walks, half-dances into the kitchen, it’s justified, and what’s more, his mom picks up on it.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” she remarks.

“Sun’s shining, birds chirping,” he replies as he puts on the coffee pot and pops bread into the toaster.

“Did you talk to Janis at all last night?”

“A bit.” He pours himself a cup and one for his mom. All the milk in his and one sugar for him, black and two sugars for his mom.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s fine,” he says. “You know her. Tough as hell, fighting anything.” His phone vibrates in his pocket and it brings an instant smile to his face. “As a matter of fact that’s her now… oh…”

Janis’ message is a picture of the medical student, Jackson, fiddling with her IV, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Below is the caption ‘forgot to send you this yesterday. Thought you might enjoy’. And a winking face, of all the emojis.

‘Appreciated, thank you,’ he texts back. ‘Though I am debating the ethical ramifications of this.’

He probably won’t get an answer for a while. She tends to sleep in in the mornings.

“Her poor mother,” his mom sighs, seemingly to herself. He looks up at her, her hands tight around the hug and her head shaking. “I mean, poor Janis as well of course. No one deserves to go through that. But if anything like that were to happen to you…” She runs a hand through his hair, a fond smile along with her sad features. “God knows what I’d do.” There’s a small moment, a sigh, and then she kisses his head.

“Mom, you’re so mushy,” he sighs, not meaning any of it. Mushy is a well-established Hubbard trait passed from mother to son and he’s not ashamed of it, not at all. It’s that exact mushy-ness that gives him the capacity to love his friends the way he does and let them feel it every chance he can. He’d never trade it for anything. “I have to get ready. Don’t want to be late. Love you!”

When he gets into homeroom, Cady is bent over her notebook with her pens out, which strikes him as odd. Surely the study bee Cady Heron isn’t catching up on homework already. He’s not even catching up on homework yet.

“Hey.” He pulls on her ponytail, a far more amusing way of getting her attention that tapping her shoulder. She grins and looks up at him, stretching out her arms. “What are you working on?”

“Trying to make a schedule for tutoring,” she explains, handing it over to him. The page is divided into seven days and those into hour long slots, and true to form, everything is colour-coded. School is green, Mathletes is blue, and so-called ‘Janis time’ is purple. Her name is written in silver glitter pen rather than black ballpoint, and there’s a little star doodled in the corner. It’s nothing short of adorable, and Cady’s cheeks go pink as he knowingly catches her eye. “Gretchen says she can’t do weekdays, so I might squeeze her in on Saturday mornings.” She takes the page and tilts it, scrunching up her face. “Wonder how many more I can fit in.”

“How much tutoring does she need exactly?” he asks.

“It’s not just Gretchen,” she says, shrugging. “I just thought, well, why not expand it. See who else needs tutoring? I could make some money off of it. And it looks great on-”

“The college applications,” he finishes, earning an eyeroll from her. Still, they both smile. “I think that’s a great idea little slice. As long as no-one’s faking stupid to score a date with you.”

“Oh hush,” she chides, swatting at him playfully. “Besides, no one would dare. Half our grade is kind of terrified of Janis.”

“We all know she could still kick their collective asses.”

“Even hopped up on chemo, she could.”

“Yeah, completely.” Something shifts inside him, and suddenly his smile feels more plastered on that natural. Keep it together, he tells himself. “So has anyone gotten back to you about tutoring?”

“I haven’t put the word out yet,” she says. “Although I did make this!” She reaches into her bag and hands another page to him, this time with a photo of her in the centre and “Tutoring Services-Math and Science, specialising in calculus” printed below it, and her phone number and email address in a different, cursive font below. And true to form, she decorated it with little ClipArt lions and tigers. “What?”

“Nothing.” He hands her it back. “It’s just very you. And if I needed help with math, I’d call you in an instant.”

“You flatter me,” she jokes, putting it back in her backpack and dropping it on the floor. It catches his eye and he doesn’t understand why it would for a second, but then he remembers. She bought this backpack the day they went to the mall. She picked the white one with the little frogs. Janis had laughed at it, affectionately calling her a ‘permanent child’. That was the day Janis had passed out. The day she had overslept. The day before she had gotten that doctor’s appointment. And all the while, none of them knew the truth. None of them had put the pieces together.

“Damian?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods quickly. “Yes, you should definitely do that.” Across from him, Cady’s eyebrows are shot up, her mouth half open. He’s blown it. Whatever ‘it’ is.

“Okay,” she sighs. “Um… are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay.” He leans back in his chair and tosses his head. “Look at me, I’m the King of Okay, baby girl.”

“I know a bad Doctor Who reference when I hear one,” she tells him. She taps her pencil on the desk. If she knows a Doctor Who reference, then he can recognise a tell. She’s building up to something. “Look, it’s okay if you’re not okay. I mean what’s going on right now with Janis… it’s rough. It’s okay if you’re a little out of it. I am too.”

“Well that’s fine, but I’m not.”

The words shock him as soon as they leave his mouth. He wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t said them at all, rather someone behind him, and he wishes that were the case. He’s not like that. Those words are sharp and he’s rarely ever sharp. He made himself a promise never to be sharp or cruel or nasty unless absolutely necessary. He’s put in so much work over the years building up his cheerful, warm persona and it took a while for it to become fully natural. Apparently, he still needs work, because Cady’s face is falling at his outburst and she’s turning around him her chair and his gut is twisting and churning with guilt.

“Caddy, wait.” He reaches out and grabs her shoulder. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s just-I’m so sorry, Caddy.”

“Hey.” Cady takes his hand and wraps her own around it, giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay. Everything’s a lot right now.” Is it? Well, it is anyone can see that. But he’s coping, he’s sure of it. He woke up today so full of happiness he may have burst. How did he go from that to this in the space of an hour?

“Yeah,” he simply says. He runs his thumb over Cady’s knuckles, still shaken from what he said. He grips her hand tighter as if that can make sense of it. “I’m sorry.”

Despite Cady telling him it’s okay, a bad feeling follows him around all day, guilt combined with something else he can’t figure out. It leaves him feeling nauseous and uneasy all through his classes and even during lunch with his friends. It sits there all day, right in the pit of his stomach and wearing him out. By the time his first class after lunch starts, all he wants to do it go home. That very last bell is music to his ears and he barely remembers to bid goodbye to his friends before bolting out the door.

His hands are cold and unsteady as he pulls books out of his locker, his heart beating quickly and faintly beneath his shirt. He checks his phone, his messages empty, and makes a mental note to text Cady later before closing his locker and heading to the front gate. Hopefully by the time he gets home he’ll have come back to himself.

“Damian!”

 _Oh god,_ he thinks, suppressing a sigh. Ms Towers slips out in front of him, a file held close to her chest and her glasses perched on her head. She’s the school guidance counsellor, someone he’s never really interacted with. All of his issues were either fixed or in the process of that by the time he reached high school. She sure had her work cut out for her when the Burn Book was released though.

“Um, hi,” he says.

“Could I grab a quick word with you?” she asks.

 _No you cannot_ is what he wants to say. _The school bell has gone, I’m free now._

“Sure,” is what he says instead, and his body follows her into her little office and even takes the seat she offers. It’s only when she sits down that he turns off autopilot. “Is this going to take long? Only I’ve got a lot of homework.”

“Not long at all,” she replies. She clears her throat, pretends to fix some papers on her desk, and leans forwards on the desk, her hands clasped beneath her. “Damian, what you’re going through is very difficult.”

“That’s indeed one word for it.”

“And the schoolboard is fully aware of any challenges you might be facing this year,” she goes on. “You probably know your teachers are all aware of the toll this may take on your schoolwork.” He hadn’t actually thought of that before. “But there are many support systems in place outside of the classroom. I want you to know that if you need any of them, we would be more than happy to schedule something for you. You could talk to me, or one of my colleagues on the care team, during one of your free periods maybe once or twice a week? Or if you want, our pastoral care team would be more than willing to talk to you in the school chapel-”

The image of Damian sitting in a church sitting on a pew talking to a priest about anything is so ludicrous to him that he actually bursts out laughing in her face.

He’s really being the resident asshole today, isn’t he?

“Sorry,” he replies, making a show of clearing his throat. “Something caught in my throat. You know how it is.”

“Oh, of course. I can get you some water if you like.” He shakes his head, taking his own bottle out of his bag, and gives her a gesture to keep talking. “Just if you want to avail of any of these services, they’re here. We’re all here for you Damian. So… do you think you might?”

“I appreciate the offer,” he says. His hand wraps tightly around his knee. “I really do. But I’m fine. I don’t need any school therapy or anything like that.”

“I don’t mean therapy,” she says. “Well, I could. But just if you needed a quick chat. This is a hugely stressful situation.”

“I know,” he snaps. He takes a deep breath in. He feels as though his insides are shaking, like a town caught in an earthquake. “I know. But I’m fine. I’m coping. And I have my own people anyway. I’ve got my friends; I’ve got my mom.” He stands on sore and unsteady legs and puts his bag on his back. “Besides, everything’s fine. Janis is coming home this weekend and we’re going to have a movie night and it will be exactly like it always has been. So we’re all good here.”

He lets her nod before bolting out the door. He doesn’t let anyone slow him down this time as he runs outside, down the front path and out the school gates, only starting to slow down when he’s off that street.

All the while, he doesn’t let himself think about Ms Towers’ offer, because doesn’t need it. He’s good. He’ll make himself good if he has to. He’s had enough practice at that after all.

*****

Saturday night takes forever to come around. The clocks on the wall tick by too slowly no matter where he is. Janis must get home late on Friday, because at some time after nine she posts a video of her dog cuddling her on her bed with the caption ‘I missed this boosh so much’. While Maxie takes up half the screen, he can see the smile in her cheeks. She looks good, healthy, happy, and that’s the main thing.

But finally the time comes, and he’s standing on her doorstep with a rucksack full of treats, DVDs, and the sleepover essentials. Butterflies flutter in his stomach, something he hasn’t felt since the early teens, and he has to hold back his arm lest he press the doorbell again.

“Hubbard!”

“Sarkisian!”

The moment he’s in her house, he envelopes her in a hug, letting her head rest in his shoulder and his hand rubbing up and down her back. His knees buckle in relief once she’s back with him, back hugging him. Sure he’s seen her before back in the hospital, but that was too alien. This is home. This is real.

“Missed you, dork,” she whispers.

“Missed you more,” he replies. When they finally let each other go, he sees her dressed down, blue and green galaxy leggings and a deep purple sweatshirt with a cartoon dinosaur on the front. Sleepover wear.

In the living room, Laura is setting up a bowl of popcorn and a try of tortilla chips, as well as a litre bottle of water and one of lemonade. She brightens up at the sight of him, hugging him lightly like you would a family member.

“Nice to see you, kid,” she tells him. “Hey how were the auditions? Janis told me they were this week.”

“Oh yeah,” he replies. It’s an effort not to wince. “They were fine. You know.”

“Well, we’ll be expecting front row tickets,” she tells him. “And a discount.”

“Sorry Laura no can do. Janis knows the importance of providing funds for the drama club.” Behind her mom, Janis nods as she fiddles with the DVD player.

“Oh, Janis, hon, let me do that.”

“It’s fine,” she replies, force behind the words. “I’ve got it. Besides you’re the one always asking me how to work it.”

“Fair enough,” she mutters. “Well, you two enjoy your night. I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

“Cool. Thanks Mom.”

“Do you want me to take the dog out?”

“We can keep him. I think he’s missed Damian anyway.”

“And I’ve missed him,” Damian adds in. Maxie is pawing at Damian’s legs, his head rubbing against his legs and his tail wagging.

“Okay, just make sure you keep him calm. Otherwise he won’t let you sleep.”

“We’ll keep him calm,” Janis promises. “He’s a good boy.”

Laura mutters something to the contrary as she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. Janis rolls her eyes at her.

“She’s so mean to the baby,” she says, patting the ground. “Come here Maxie-boy. Isn’t mama just the meanest and nastiest to the poor baby boy?”

“Should I leave you two alone?” he asks, only half-joking. Janis looks up from where she was making kissy faces at her dog and chuckles.

“I missed him,” she says. “Can you blame me? Imagine not letting your dog into the hospital with you.”

“It’s lunacy all right.” He kneels down beside her, opening up his rucksack. “Okay, I brought chocolate peanuts, I brought mini pretzels, I brought sour gummies. And to top it off, I brought your faves… crispy NemNems!” He holds up the box of M&Ms, wiggling them in her face. She bats them away, grinning.

“Perfection. Okay, what do we watch first?”

“You pick. That’s the rule after all, remember?” he reminds her. “Your house, your rules.”

“Okay. Then I pick…” She holds up the DVD to him; A Nightmare On Elm Street and wiggles her eyebrows. One of her favourites, which just so happens to be one of his least favourites. He’s not a horror fan. It’s one of the few disagreements they have.

“Deal. But I may have to hide behind your hair.”

They settle themselves on the couch, a pair of blankets resting on the heater behind them and Maxie plopped on top of them for extra warmth. His little head is on Janis’ lap, demanding pets, and she is only too happy to oblige. He snuggles further into her with his paws up on his legs and whimpering whenever she so much as shifts.

“Someone missed you.”

“Yeah he did,” she replies, her voice fond. “You know when I came into the kitchen last night he peed himself because he was so excited.” She leans down to the dog and starts speaking in what they call her ‘Maxie-voice’. “Didn’t you to a peepee on the floor and Daddy had to mop it up?”

“Awww. Also ewww.” Janis digs him the ribs even as she laughs. Maxie is oblivious to this, his ears pricking up as he looks between the two of them. Damian cracks open the snacks, already commandeering the tortilla chips (what can he say, he’s a carb lover) and placing the rest of them delicately between them before opening the M&Ms and handing them to Janis.

“Oh, thanks…” She picks a few out of the bag while holding the dog down with the other hand, lest he eat something he shouldn’t.

When he looks back in the bag, it’s like no-one took anything. Sure enough, there’s probably only three or four in her hand right now. And they’re one of her favourite things in the world, ever. She’s hidden them under pillows at sleepovers before. Before he can stop, she notices him looking and gives him a shrug.

“I’m just not that hungry,” she explains, taking a sip of the water. “It’s fine.”

It’s fine. There you go. She said it’s fine, so it’s fine.

Despite that reassurance, and against his better judgement, he doesn’t stop taking peeks at her as the movie goes on. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t like this movie. She picks at the food she would normally be fighting him for, eating a pretzel here and there and nothing else, only long, slow drinks of water. The hair on the back of his neck pricks up at it, his instincts once again kicking in.

Maybe instead of instincts, he thinks he might just be paranoid. Janis said that she hadn’t had much of an appetite recently. It’s just a side effect of the medicine. Nothing to be worried about, surely, especially with the way her eyes are wide and her grin is excited and bright, the way she jumps at scares she’s seen ten times over and ‘ooh’s at Freddy coming down the hall. She even calls him a ‘magnificent bastard’. Why should he focus on what she’s eating when she’s still her and is in good spirits? With that in mind, he turns his attention to the movie, properly this time, accompanied by Janis’ rantings and commentary.

When he does lose focus on Freddy Kruger again, it’s nothing to do with Janis or ‘instincts’, but rather nature calling, courtesy of a half-empty lemonade bottle on the floor. He stretches his stiff legs and turns to let her know, probably having to tap her to pull her out of the movie… only to find her curled in on herself, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Her hand rests limply on Maxie and her chest rises and falls slowly. How long has she been like that, he wonders.

“Janis?” he whispers. Nothing. “Janis.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch. That’s her for the night.

She looks younger in sleep, especially without make-up. And a lot less tough. It’s easier to see her as the little girl he met crying in a bathroom all those years ago. But she was tough even then, and she’s even stronger now. He rises slowly, careful not to wake her. Maxie is still awake, but antsy at sitting down for too long.

“Come here, kid,” he says quietly to him. He lifts Janis’ hand a little and coaxes him off her, patting his knees until he reluctantly climbs down. He settles beside her instead, sitting beside the couch like a little guard dog. “Good boy.” Next he takes the blanket from the heater and throws it over her, making sure to tuck it over her shoulders. That’s what moves her, and for a second he panics, but she only murmurs something and burrows into it. His heart swells in that moment, and he presses a swift kiss to her head.

“Good night, kid,” he whispers, even if it’s still light outside.

He doesn’t go home after that. He sticks around all night, despite Janis’ mother asking if he wants to go home. Neither one of her parents are surprised she fell asleep, telling him she’s tired a lot in the hospital. Her dad heaves a sigh before telling him that’s how they know it’s working. Damian nods, unsure of what else to say, and heads back to the living room. The idea of leaving her alone in there unsettles him for whatever reason.

He slides Cabaret into the DVD player, the volume at 2 and the subtitles on. At least if Janis does wake up, it’ll be to something she likes. For now he bounces between watching the movie and watching her until he gives up entirely. He changes spreads himself on the couch next to him, the light from his phone the only light on in the room. As he does start to doze off, a mere four hours after Janis, he starts thinking about what her dad said. If this is how they know everything’s working, then he can take it. Because it means she’ll be okay at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi kids! Comments and kudos are grool :)
> 
> Also, if you have a moment and are feeling extra-active today, here are some issues you could help with:
> 
> https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co/
> 
> As always, staye safe and sensible kids. Wear your masks outside, be kind to people. And stream folklore by Taylor Swift, coming at 12:00am EST.


	8. Janis

Her first week home goes by far faster than Janis thought it would, and that might in part be due to the fact that she spent a lot of it asleep, or in their weird limbo state between awake and asleep. Maybe it was some out of character naivete, but she thought that her time at home would be almost normal, or at least less painful than in the hospital. She had made all these plans to take Cady out for ice cream during the week and catch up with other friends and maybe even swing into North Shore to see her old art teachers. Grab parts of her old life back and feel like herself again.

But her body didn’t agree with her. Rather than a rush of energy flowing into her body on the drive home and her waking up feeling refreshed and free, she felt weighted down from the minute she left the hospital. She had sat half-asleep in the back of her dad’s car, her head lolling against the seat and kept awake only by her parents’ voices and the radio buzz, along with her own will power. Apparently she couldn’t even make it through one lousy movie night, crashing out before the first one is even over and waking up at double digits to a concerned friend. The days after that weren’t much better, and all the plans she made melted down her bathroom drain. She feels as though she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, a whole week had passed without her knowledge. And now she’s walking through the hospital doors again with her bag slung over her shoulders, the goodbye hug she shared with her father lingering on her skin.

The place feels far less strange than it had the first week, and she guesses that can only be a good thing. It doesn’t feel ‘homey’, there are too many strangers roaming the halls and everything is too sterile and strict for that, but she feels more in place. Like she’s viewing it through a camera lens and the picture is coming into focus.

“Janis!”

Her thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of a small body ramming into her side, a beanie-clad head colliding with her chest and arms around her waist. Normally she’d object to being grabbed that way, but there’s something about this particular hug that warms her up, not just her heart but her body too and for a few minutes makes her forget about her angsting.

“Hi cutie!” she wraps one arm around Maddie, her other hand still occupied with her bag. “What have you been up to while I was away?”

Before she answer, someone calls her name. It’s sharp and sudden, a complete departure from Maddie’s own adorable, if rushed, babbling. A woman appears as if out of nowhere, with short hair and a frown one her face and glasses framing her eyes. Janis doesn’t have to be a genius to work out who she is though.

“Sorry mom,” Maddie says before taking Janis’ hand and yanking her forwards. True to fashion, Janis wobbles and almost trips over her own feet in the process. “Mom, this is Janis, the girl I was telling you about! The new girl!”

“Oh.” Maddie’s mom smoothes her hair down and gives her a smile, one that wouldn’t look out of place on a TV special. “Nice to meet you, Janis. Maddie’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, well now I’m scared,” she says, shoving her free hand in her pocket.

“Oh, I’ve only heard good things from her,” she says warmly. She has quite a similar face to Maddie, same chin and dimple in her cheeks and cheekbones. The eyes are different though, hers green where Maddie’s are brown. Her hair is dark blonde and curling at the bottom and Janis can’t help wondering if that’s what Maddie’s hair looked like before. She’d certainly look cute with blonde curls falling around that little face. Her eyes move from Janis to her daughter and in turn go from full of warmth to exasperation, a trick only moms know. “Maddie you can’t run off like that.”

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just saw Janis and wanted to say hi.” Then she turns around to Janis as if her mom isn’t even there. Janis wants to disapprove. “Hey, can you hang out now?”

“Nothing I’d love more, short stuff,” she says. “But I have to review with Mr Doctor first.” The words have barely left her lips before Maddie’s little face falls and Janis bends down to her level. “But once I’m done I’ll come find you and then you can tell me all the trouble you made this week. Deal?”

The way her face lights up does such a funny thing to Janis’ heart. It fills something she didn’t know was empty and makes it feel like it’ll burst.

“Deal.”

She gives her mom a wave before stepping back to her own mom. Maddie’s mom has her hand on her daughter’s back immediately, asking her hushed questions that Janis can’t hear, but she can guess. Something like ‘are you hungry’, ‘do you want a warmer sweater’ ‘maybe you should rest for a bit’. At least that’s what her mom would say to her. Cancer moms, she thinks.

Room 21 has been cleaned up since she was last in, sheets tucked in and obviously newly washed, the bathroom scrubbed and the shower things she brought neatly lined up on the shelves, the trashcan emptied.

Janis had thought about her little hospital room during the week. It’s a nice enough space, but she hadn’t quite realised how lonely it was until she was back in her own room. It’s cold and impersonal, not to mention identical to everyone else’s. So yesterday she took and their biggest shopping bag and started lifting some things from her room to give it a little more colour, make it feel like her space, not just a space made available for her.

She takes one of the pillows from her own bed and places it on this one. She bought it at a thrift store, made up of dozens of mismatching swatches from fabric. She then takes out two more cushions, one white with a black butterfly and one she tie dyed purple herself, and places them on the visitor’s chairs. Once they’re done she takes out a red fluffy blanket and drapes it over the bed, letting the edges drape over the sides. The place feels warmer in the literal and figurative sense now with all of them here.

Next she pulls out her lesbian flag form her bag, wondering why on Earth she didn’t bring it that first week. Her mom had wondered if this was a good idea, bringing a pride flag, not unsupportive but also not naïve to how the world is. Janis had insisted that it was important to her, and it’s technically a decoration. While her mom is the furthest thing from conservative, she still had a speech prepared in advance, telling her how this is a key part of her identity and how much it matters to her and how she’s never been scared to show it anyway, but it wasn’t needed. Her mom gave in as soon as she brought it up, telling her that if it would make her feel better, she wasn’t going to stop her.

So that’s how Doctor Wiley walks in on her standing on a chair and attempting to stick the flag on the wall.

“Doing a little bit of redecorating, are we?” he asks.

“Just a few knickknacks from home,” she says over her shoulder. “They really tie the room together, don’t you think?” She makes him wait until the other corner is stuck before jumping down and facing him, delighting in his slightly-confused (but nonetheless happy) expression.

“Right well, first week at home.” He closes the door behind him, making sure it clicks shut. She winces at the noise and hopes he didn’t notice. Despite the colour she’s brought, the room feels suffocating again. “How did that go?”

“Pretty okay,” she says. She doesn’t lie to him, seeing no point in it. “I was tired. A lot.” She looks over at her mom, her arms wrapped around herself. “And um… I felt pretty lousy a lot of the time too. Like I had a really terrible hangover.”

“Well, that’s unfortunately to be expected,” the doctor says sadly. “That is a normal side effect of the chemo. Any other effects that you can remember? Any vomiting?”

“Nope.”

“Bleeding around your mouth?”

She shakes her head.

“Any trouble eating?”

“Are these all going to be related to my mouth?” she asks. He laughs at that and shakes his head.

“It does feel like that doesn’t it?” he asks. She huffs a laugh back and goes to say no again, but it catches in her throat. She doesn’t really remember eating that much over the week.

“I wasn’t really hungry,” she explains. She pulls her jacket tighter around her body. “I mean, I ate food. Not like I starved myself or anything. I just wasn’t hungry most days.”

“Well, again that’s to be expected,” he says as he scribbles on his little clipboard. She cranes her neck a little. It’s about her after all. She has a right to read it, she’d like to think. Unfortunately, the bastard slides it under his arm and out of her eyes. “Well, at least now you know what to expect. Your treatments seem to be working as they should, so we’ll keep it going there.” She nods, her lips pressed into a tight line. Surely no change is a good thing. “One more thing… have you thought any more about getting that port in?”

She takes a deep breath in. She has tried not to, but she has thought about it. She even Googled it and scribbled a pro and con list in what would have been a school notebook. And the more she read about it and thought about it… the more she was swayed by it.

“A bit,” she tells him. “I think… I think I might talk to some people about it before I decide anything.”

“That’s a great idea, Janis,” he beams. He’s probably just glad she thought about it. “I’ll let you two get settled in. See you later.”

She lets out a breath once he’s gone. Doctor Wiley isn’t a bad person, he’s sweet and kind and has the best kind of grandpa vibes; that’s why she feels so bad for being so uncomfortable whenever he’s around.

“You okay?” her mom asks.

“Aren’t I always?” she sighs. She kneels down and gets the last piece of décor out of her back; a string of little black and white star-shaped lights that used to hang above her bed. 2 dollars in her local store, plucked from a bin at the cash register. Cady had thought they were adorable.

‘They suit you,’ she had said, leaning her head on her shoulder. ‘Since you’re a space alien and all that.’

Smiling warmly at the memory, she wraps them around the frame at the foot of her bed. Tonight she can turn them on and let them light up the darkness. They’ll probably be less effective than the lamp sitting on the side, but they’re prettier. They’re hers.

“Hey, why don’t I get Maddie?” she says. Her mom nods, likely taking a moment to wonder who Maddie is before remembering. “I just think she’d like them.”

“Yeah, sure,” her mom says. “That’s really sweet.” Her mom’s words make her insides glow like the little lights soon will, and the glow gets brighter when Maddie gasps and tells her how much she loves everything, gushing over the flag and the stars. It’s not home, and she’s not completely comfortable here, but she’s doing what she does best, she supposes. She’s adapting to circumstance.

*****

She’s eating her dinner when her dad comes over on Tuesday. The hospital staff angelic helpful beings that they are, fix him up with a plate of fries and a hot dog when he casually remarks he hadn’t made eaten himself yet. And overly polite, gracious man that her father is, he thanked them two or three times and made sure to tell them how much he loved it. She had rolled her eyes along with her mom, even if they were both laughing at him. The best part is knowing that this isn’t even an act, he’s just like that.

Visiting hours had barely started when he came through her door tonight. That’s how he had been every day of her first two weeks and apparently, he had started as he meant to go on. Taking attendance as seriously as Cady does. But as punctual and meticulous as he is, he’s never forgotten to get dinner before. And while she does her absolute best not to show it, so many bad feelings cloud her mind and twist her stomach, adding to the simmering nausea she’s felt for a few hours now.

She moves her fork around the pasta as her dad talks work to them, although the words fall away before they reach Janis, her mind on the dinner in front of her. Vegetarian lasagne, something she’s always loved, but the sauce looks too much like slime for her liking, and the way the filling and pasta slithers around each other and schlops around on the plate turns her off it even more. She takes a quick sip of water to try to calm her body down, but to no avail. The mere idea of eating anything more exhausts her and she bites her cheek to keep from gagging.

“Janis, you okay?” her mom asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she says quietly. “Peachy keen.” She drops the fork, letting it clatter against the paper plate. “I think I’m done.”

“You sure?” her mom asks. “You barely touched it.”

“Not hungry,” she reasons. She shoves the tray table away from her before the sight of the food makes her retch. She pulls her pillow against her stomach, picking at a loose thread on it, avoiding her parent’s gaze. She doesn’t need to look at them to know that they’re worried about her.

“You want some of mine?” her dad asks.

“I’m okay,” she replies, shaking her head only to regret it. “Besides, you know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yeah, I do. You know, Jan, your mom and I were talking,” her dad begins. He looks over to her mom, not for permission, but something akin to it. Validation, that might be the right word to use. A sign that this is the right thing to say right now. “Maybe it might be smart for you to press pause on the vegetarian thing for now.”

“Well, unless you can ask the meat industry to put a pause on the animal cruelty thing,” she fires back. “I’m not doing that.”

“Okay,” he sighs. She lifts her eyes enough to look at him and rests her chin on her pillow. “Look, you just need all the strength you can get at the minute.”

“Are you mansplaining my own body to me?” she asks. She makes sure to add a smirk so he knows she’s not serious. It must not have worked, because he takes it seriously. And he never takes stuff like this seriously. Hell, he’d probably agree and say something half-serious right back.

“I’m not… no,” he says. “I’m just saying that it might be worth it to eat more. I know you care about the planet but-”

“If you tell me I have to care about myself too or something like that, I’m going to scream,” she says flatly. “And then Doctor Wiley will come in and we’ll all be having a very awkward conversation.” She pushes herself up from the bed and stands facing him just to prove her point. Sure, white spots flash in her vision for a few seconds, but she powers through it. Spite fuels her more than any food can. So raises her chin and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not dropping the vegetarian thing, Dad. That’s the end of it.”

The prickly silence that falls over the room is almost enough to make her regret what she said. Her dad’s mouth opens and closes noiselessly, his eyes moving from her to her mom. She’d bet that if she had pulled this under normal circumstances she’d have gotten a ‘don’t talk to your father like that’ and she finds herself craving one here. She doesn’t get it. It’s not unexpected but it’s frustrating. Instead he holds his hands up, surrendering to her.

“Okay,” he says, sitting down on the bed. “Fine.”

Regret and pride battle inside her at the sight of her at the sight of her dad’s dejected face. While she and her parents are no strangers to disagreements, this is new; the three of them unsure of what to say, her mom unsure whose side to take. Fights in their house resolve themselves in under a minute and are forgotten entirely. Fights here… maybe not so much. Different stakes, she supposes. That idea shakes her and makes her feel even more sick. Which is great.

She holds if off for another minute before climbing across the bed to him and wrapping her arms around him and even resting her chin on his shoulder. A second passes and he doesn’t move, and Janis almost spirals, but then he takes her hand and rests his cheek against her head.

“I’m just worried about you, kid. You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure,” she says. “Besides, the veggie options they have are way better than the meat ones.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “As long as you’re feeling okay.” She murmurs something that was meant to be a response, but to be honest, she’s not even sure what she was going for. Maybe assuring him that she’s fine, even if that would be a bare-faced lie. She lets him take whatever he needs from it instead of deciding herself. All she can really do is hope this never comes up again because thinking about it makes her skin crawl and the her stomach twist into knots.

*****

Unfortunately, she isn’t much better by the next day. Cramps clench her stomach and wreck through her body, a chill racing after it and leaving her shivering beneath her sweatshirt. She throws the covers off only to pull them back on a minute later, her body changing temperatures so rapidly it’s like two kids tossing a ball between them. She spends the achingly long morning in varying degrees of pain and discomfort and small bouts of sleep, shifting into a new position every few seconds in a desperate attempt to ease it in any way.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mom’s hand runs through her hair, gentle yet tinged with anxiety, out of a fear for Janis and a fear of this unknown, alien thing happening. Other mom’s like Maddie’s mom at least have the advantage of knowing this. She doesn’t and Janis bets that’s what scares her. But that doesn’t stop her trying. “Do you need anything. Some water, an extra blanket? Painkillers?”

“I need it stop,” she groans. She pulls herself into a tight ball as her stomach doubles over, Purrlock beneath her chin, stroking her face with his tiny paws. Between the waves of pain, she manages a small shake of her head. “I just need to ride it out.” She opens her eyes just enough to see her mom nod and keeps them open long enough to see Nurse Lucy come into the room, bulging plastic bags inside a tray, and a long, uninterrupted groan escapes her lips.

“Funnily enough that’s what my husband said to me this morning,” she says without skipping a beat.

“You need a new husband,” Janis replies from where her face is pressed into the pillow.

“Bad day?”

“Unfortunately,” her mom answers. Janis hears the door clicking shut and she’s immensely grateful for it. “She’s felt a little off last night and now-”

“Now we’re here,” she interrupts. “And everything hurts.” She pushes herself up, finding herself helplessly looking up at the person with the most knowledge. “Is this normal?”

“It is, sweetheart,” she says, calming a fear Janis hadn’t realised was there. “You just need to power through it.”

“That’s what she said to me,” her mom murmurs, although concern is still etched onto her face. “Is it safe for her to be on that right now?”

“It is,” she replies.

“Can’t we skip it just this once?” Janis complains. “You know how shit it makes me feel. Now it’ll make me feel double shit.”

“I know, Janis.” Lucy goes about setting up the IV, although there’s almost unending sympathy when she looks down at Janis.. “But we can’t mess with your treatments, kid. Not unless there’s a serious reason”

Janis bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t like other people being right instead of her and she really hates it now. As she pushes herself up and rolls up her sleeve it’s with gritted teeth and a scowl and a reminder to the universe that she’s not giving in willingly.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s our girl,” Lucy comments as she takes her arm. “Look on the bright side, at least it’s not doing this.”

“Yeah.” She winces as the needle breaks through her skin. The medicine slips through her veins and it’s because it affects her already half-asleep mind already that her next sentence comes out. “You know, I think he and my friend Damian would make a good couple.”

“I’ll pass that onto him,” she replies with a chuckle. “Okay, that should take another two hours. You try to stay hydrated during that time, okay? Or just take it easy.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” she mumbles. Her face is already pressed into the pillow, her body turned on its side and her knees dragged up to her chest. She feels sliver of self-consciousness run through her with her mom and Lucy’s eyes on her, both full of pity and worry, the latter more evident in her mom’s. Through her half-closed eyes, she sees Lucy take her mom’s arm and whisper something to her, something that makes her nod but does nothing to relieve the tension out of her body. If she were normal, she’d snap at them and remind them that she’s still in the room, but then if she were normal right now, they wouldn’t be doing that.

She doesn’t know how long it takes for her to fall asleep, all she knows is that when she wakes up it’s because there’s an IV being taken out of her arm and an apologetic nurse. Which means she’s lost at least two hours of her day from sitting in here.

She still feels bad, but at least now it’s in part due to her stiff muscles. She stretches out her arms and runs a hand through her hair, trying to re-ground herself in the land of the living. Surprisingly, her mom is nowhere to be found. Maybe she slipped down to the store and picked up a trashy magazine or hunted down some other cancer moms to become friends with. The idea makes her smile. Good for her, she thinks.

Still a little feeling groggy, she grabs stretches over to the table and grabs her sketchbook and pencil, her hand moving around in lazy lines to create half-shapes and thin concepts for later. Her mom comes in soon, as she suspected, holding a new magazine, and checks up on how she’s feeling before letting her get back to work. The drawing obviously can’t help fix her body, but it patches up her mind and makes her feel like more of a human.

It takes a while, but she finally starts to feel better; her stomach settles down, the idea of food doesn’t disgust her and she’s comfortable in her sweater. Even though she feels shaky from the mini hurricane that ran through her, it’s such a relief to feel normal again. Her drawings start to take on a more concrete shape; a little girl holding a balloon, a butterfly, a baby dragon breathing little sparks, a baby tiger to make friends with the baby dragon.

She’s pretty close to fine when there’s a gentle, cautious knock on her door. Her mom asks silently if she’s up for it, and Janis answers in the form of getting up and opening it herself. On the other side is a woman maybe her mom’s age with long dark hair wearing a red shirt tucked into white pants, holding a clipboard and of course, smiling. Everyone in here smiles.

“Janis?” she asks.

“That would be me.”

“Hi. I’m Cassie. I’m with the Cancer Fund for Young People.” She gestures proudly to the plastic covered badge on her shirt, blue and white with a smiley cartoon sunflower. “Would it be okay if I could grab a quick word with you?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.”

Janis steps back and opens the door, letting her into the room. Once there, Cassie immediately notices her mom in the corner and powers right up to her, handshake at the ready.

“Oh you must be her mom,” she says.

“Um yeah. You’re with some cancer fund?”

“Yes.” Janis sits down on the bed, her legs folded beneath her, and closes her sketchbook. Cassie sits next to her, a little too close for Janis’ liking. Her mom hovers helplessly next to the bed, uncertainly evident in her stance and her eyes constantly moving to the door. She’s given Janis her fair share of privacy in here, but Janis is glad that this time she’s here. Something tells her that being alone with this woman would unsettle her with her demeanour that’s so polished and shiny it’s practically plastic. So with that in mind she slips her mom a smile and a nod.

“So, like I said I’m with the Cancer Fund for Young People. We’re in charge of taking care of all the mental well-being of the patients in here. We know what a traumatic experience this is for you, Janis, and we want to help you through it.” She gives her a smile that seems calculated and Janis has to wonder how much of this spiel is scripted. “We offer a wide range of support systems to help you through this, as well as some fun social events.”

“Ah yes, I was wondering when we were doing the Cancer Kid Silent Disco,” Janis remarks. Cassie is unflinching, instead letting out a light laugh and handing her over an orange plastic wallet.

“Just some background information on some of the things we’re running now.” She opens looks through the glossy leaflets, some with information familiar to her like helplines and support groups. Different place, different reason, but she’s researched and even run the same concepts. She puts them to one side, lifting a couple of others and pretending to look at them until a few words catch her eye.

“That photography project,” she says. “Maddie and Melissa told me about it a few weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” she replies. “A lot of young people are getting involved all over the state. It’s actually the first year we’re doing this. The idea is we’d give you a camera and let you have a little photoshoot in here with all the things that matter to you. Your friends, your hobbies, your favourite things.”

“Showing the person behind the cancer.”

“Exactly.” Excitement sparks in Cassie’s eyes. “So what do you think about it?”

“I think it sounds cool,” she answers. “I mean I’m into all that kind of stuff, so…”

“Oh, that’s great. We’d love to have as many people involved as possible, so you hold onto that. It’s got all the details about how to go about it.” She clears her throat and leans forwards a little bit, her eyebrows raising in a way that almost makes Janis uncomfortable. “And then we also work with the Make A Wish Foundation. I’m sure you’ve heard all about that even if no-one’s spoken to you about it.”

“No-one’s brought that up actually,” Janis says. “Guess there was no time with all of… well, this.” She waves around the room, gesturing to the IVs and the bandages on her hand. “Really, I kind of forgot it was a thing.”

“Well, it definitely is a thing,” Cassie assures her. “And you just about make the cut, being 17 now. There was a bit of fuss since you’ll be 18 in November, but we squashed that pretty quickly.” When she chuckles, Janis’ eyes meet her mom, both no doubt thinking the same thing; God this woman is excited. “Couldn’t have you missing out on your wish, could we? So you can have anything you want. Go to any place you want, meet a celebrity you love, get some designer gear.” She cocks her head to her side, looking at her expectantly. She only offers a nod. Each offer is tempting but doesn’t sit right with her. After all, if this is her one wish, she’d want to get it right.

“Sounds awesome,” she says. “I’ll do some thinking on it.”

“Of course. Of course there’s not rush at all. This is all just for you to look over. There’s schedules in there for the support groups and therapy sessions-”

“Sounds fun.” Her voice is blunt, the words sudden and borderline rude, and she sees Cassie’s face just begin to crack. Apparently, she found this woman’s limit. She feels a small slurry of pride at that. “I’ll definitely look over them.”

“Good. Well if you need anything else from me, my number is on the bottom of all of them.” She gets up and brushes herself down, telling the two of them it was ‘so, so nice to meet them’ and that she hopes to see Janis again soon. And she still doesn’t leave after that, standing in the doorway giving them the tiny details about the photography project (which Janis could read about just fine) and how there’s “so many fun things they have planned”. Janis keeps nodding and nodding to the point that when she finally leaves, there’s a crick in her neck.

“Well she’s very into her job,” her mom remarks, making her laugh.

“You can say that again,” she sighs, shifting through the sheets of paper. They all have the same colour scheme as Cassie’s badge, ocean blue and blindingly bright orange, along with the happy sunflower, and each one showing photos of kids with tubes and hats sitting in circles or giving the camera a thumbs-up as they munch on pizza or sit at the front row of a concert.

“Anything catch your eye?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe. I meant it about that photography thing. Everything else…”

“Not your scene?”

“I…” She peers closer, looking at the background of one picture. “Okay well they got to go to Comic Con.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Didn’t you go to one a year or two ago?”

“Yeah.” She was also planning to go this coming summer to sell some art she’d been busy making, and to introduce Cady to another foreign concept. Who knows whether or not that’ll happen now? For her at least, Cady can still go. Damian might want to take her, or maybe one of the Mathletes, they’re all diehard geeks. A picture pops into her mind, one of Cady walking around her first convention with that excited expression that reminds Janis of a puppy and makes her heart melt. Dragging Kevin G around different stalls, marvelling at the merchandise and the cosplays and the celebrities. Cady with wide, shining eyes and a breathless, beautiful smile and someone else at her side instead of her.

“I need the bathroom,” she announces. She jumps off the bed, hiding her shaking hand in her sweatshirt pocket. Hopefully, her mom will think she’s panting because she’s tired, not because she just upset herself. Sure enough, the question is ready on her lips once she’s up. “I’m fine, Mom. Just need to pee.”

She sits on the toilet with the seat closed, her knees up against her chest and her hands wrapped around her legs. Her breaths are long and deep; she imagines herself expelling the bad thought every time she breathes out; a trick she learned the first time she was in therapy. She scoffs at herself for feeling this way over something that wasn’t even real. She has plenty of real things to be upset about and she’s wound herself up over something that might not even happen. What’s she even upset about? Definitely not about Cady running off with Kevin. There are a million reasons that won’t happen. Is she upset about Cady enjoying herself when she’s not around? _Oh God please no_ , she thinks to herself. _Tell me I’m not becoming that girlfriend_.

She rests her chin on her knees and looks glumly at the bathroom wall. This is actually a great place to contemplate, what with the plain white walls and the quiet and the coolness beneath her bare feet. Her thoughts are more coherent in here then they have been for weeks. Which is how she manages to get her feelings in order, set them in front of her like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved. In doing that, she sees she’s not jealous of Cady’s friends, nor does she want her to stop living her life on her account. It’s nothing but missing her and the idea of only experiencing Cady’s upcoming joy through second hand accounts rather than in person, that makes her heart hurt this way.

*****

Like she has done so many times before, Janis shoves those feelings down. Way down to the point where she almost can’t feel them. And since she can’t feel them, her mom can’t see them, and that means she’s only worried about the one thing. Which is good for both of them.

The next day she looks through the papers that Cassie gave her. She also learned that morning that her discomfort around Cassie isn’t unique to her, in fact she, Melissa and a few other older kids have a good old fashioned bitch session about her, giggling under their hands as they discuss her irrepressible cheerfulness or her perpetual optimism. It’s comforting to know she’s not the only one to find it exhausting, even if no-one else is on her level of dry cynicism. There are a lot of things that unites the people in this ward and one of them is apparently a disdain for enforced hopefulness.

“Well, it’s not all bad,” Melissa had pointed out. “I mean, it does work. A lot of it. Like the positivity journal I started.”

“The what now?”

“This journal I started when my treatments did,” she had explained. “It’s probably in your pack somewhere. Like writing down something good that happened to you each day, writing down the things you’re grateful for, et cetra.” She offers a small shrug. “Helps you stay positive, I guess.”

“Hm, not sure that would click with me,” Janis had said. “I’m like an electron. I have a negative charge.” Her little group had laughed at that before going back to complaining about/mocking her.

But despite that assertion, she’s sitting here not two hours later reading the pack she had previously dismissed. Among other things, finds the idea for the positivity journal, encouraging her to document her feelings, with particular focus on documenting the good parts. ‘When it’s raining, make sure to record the rainbows!’ it tells her. She wants to laugh and scrunch it up and toss it over her shoulder, but she freezes. A year ago, hell less than a year ago, she’d have done that. Now she simply slips it safely back into the wallet and places the wallet on a shelf rather than underneath something or hiding it in a drawer.

“Janis!”

Her head shoots up at the sound of that voice, mostly out of disbelief. She knows that voice well, which is why she’s almost certain she’s imagining it. While it’s not impossible, she still finds the idea of a (former) Plastic coming around hard to swallow.

But there’s Karen Smith is standing in the doorway, patented sunny smile and all. Janis blinks a little just to make sure she’s real. Nope, not dreaming apparently. So Karen Smith came to visit her in hospital.

“Karen,” she greets. She’s not afraid, Karen’s harmless by herself, she’s just not completely sure how to act without a mediator here. “You’re here…”

“Uh huh. The guy at the front desk told me where to find you. Oh also I ran into your mom downstairs! She was really nice.”

“Oh cool.” Karen nods, her feet remaining rooted to the floor and her eyes shifting. “Oh, come on in.” Janis leans forward and clears some of her stuff off the end of the bed, unused to visitors, especially at this time. “Uh, here sit down.”

“Thanks!” Karen skips into the room and it’s then Janis notices the little basket in her hands, covered with a little gingham cloth and looking straight out of a picture book.

“Okay, what’s with that?” she asks. “Delivering some cookies to grandma?”

“Not cookies,” she says, dimples forming in her cheeks as her smile gets wider. It spreads to Janis; Karen’s easily-brought happiness is infectious. She pulls back the cloth, revealing a Tupperware box containing muffins that bulge out of their cases, little red and white spots bursting through the golden surface. “Muffins! I made them for you. I asked Cady and Damian what flavours you like and they told me raspberry and white chocolate.” Her eyes meet Janis’, worry swimming in the blue. “Is that okay?”

“It’s great. Karen, thank you so much!”

She wants to say she’s touched, but that’s almost an understatement. It’s unexpected, sure, but the best kind of unexpected; the fact that she made muffins, the fact that she asked her friends what she likes. The fact that he thought about her. It leaves her at a loss for words and all she can do is take Karen’s hand and squeeze it tight. Karen seems to get it anyway.

“Do you want one now?”

“Of course I do!” Karen lets out a small squeak as she pops the box open and hands her one. They look even better up close, with the raspberries poking out and slivers of white chocolate running through the delicate dough. She bites into it, giggling as she wipes crumbs off her face.

“Oh my gosh, Karen, these are great!” she says through a full mouth. And she’s sure they are, but there’s kind of a small problem. She can’t really taste it. She gets about 1% of the taste, maybe less, and it might be her imagination. The sad part is that she isn’t surprised; she was told on the first day the chemo might mess up with her taste buds. But it could have done her a favour and waited until after she was given muffins for God’s sake.

“Thanks!” Karen squeals, biting into her own. “There were meant to be twelve, but I wanted to taste one to see if they were okay. So I shared it with my mom to see what she said.”

“That’s okay, Kare,” she says. She props her elbow up on her knee and pulls off the case more. “I didn’t know you could cook. Or bake, I guess.”

“Oh, I only just started,” she explains. “I started watching that baking show-the British one. Have you watched it?”

“Oh, of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Well I watched it last year, and I thought it looked really fun,” Karen explains. “So I went and looked up some recipes and I gave it a try.” She beams triumphantly at her and Janis feels an unexpected surge of happiness for her. “I think I might do that when we graduate. Go to like cooking college. I want to bake stuff for people.” She gasps suddenly and grabs Janis’ arm. She can almost see the lightbulb going off over her head. “Maybe I could bake stuff for cancer patients!”

“That’d be awesome,” Janis agrees. Karen smiles, a glow in her cheeks and her legs kicking above the ground.

“So how are you doing?” she asks. She brings as much seriousness as she can, which isn’t a lot, especially not with that little face of hers.

“I’m okay,” she shrugs. “You know how it is. I’m getting what I need, which is good.” Karen nods severely, something ticking in her brain. Something that’s surprised Janis upon getting to know her is that Karen isn’t empty-headed like she once thought. There’s a lot going on up there, it just goes on in a way they can’t understand. She’s certainly smart enough to understand the gravity of her situation, and before long her shoulders droop as she takes in more of the room. “Hey,” she taps her shoulder. “So what’s going on with you? Besides the baking, obviously.”

“Well, on the baking, I might be making some stuff for the bake sale this year,” she says. “And on non-baking, I guess I’m good. School’s pretty hard this year. I mean not for Cady, because she’s smart. And some of it’s okay. I like doing English this year. We’re reading drama, and at least I like drama. It’s easier to read than books…”

Janis nods along, her attention held by the blonde in front of her until movement outside her open door catches her eye; Maddie passes in her pink sweatshirt and her slippers, probably on her way to the longue. The minute Janis catches her eye, she waves at her and Janis instinctively waves back. Karen picks up on it, looking behind her and finding Maddie outside.

“Oh, hey,” Maddie says awkwardly, having not picked up on the other girl’s presence.

“Oh, Maddie, this is Karen,” Janis introduces. “She’s one of my friends from school. Karen, this is Maddie.”

“Oh… hi.” Karen’s voice is a lot quieter, more careful than it was a second ago and Janis hopes Maddie doesn’t notice. There’s a clear difference between the two of them. For a moment, her heart clenches, and Karen’s ‘harmlessness’ flies out the window. But then Karen holds out the muffin box and her face is as sunny and warm as ever. “Do you want a muffin? I baked them for Janis, but you’re Janis’ friend.”

“Oh, thanks!” Maddie scurries in and takes one from the box. “Cool. I have to go, I told someone I’d hang out with them today, but I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, short stack.”

“Bye, Maddie,” Karen says.

“Bye Janis. Bye Muffin Girl.”

Janis chuckles as she leaves, but when she sees Karen’s face, she sees the smile fading a little and worry creeping into her eyes. She can’t say she doesn’t understand it, even if she doesn’t like it. When she first met Maddie, despite liking her, she saw the reality. Losing her hair, wearing pyjamas more than her actual clothes. Janis at least passes for healthy, but how long will that last?

“How old is she?” Karen asks.

“She’s thirteen.” The word catches in Janis’ throat.

“Oh,” is all Karen says, but everything else is implied. Oh the poor little girl with cancer. In a while, that might be how people see her. That might be how people already see her. Poor little Janis with cancer.

“So you were saying about the school?” Janis asks. She taps Karen’s shoulder to bring her back. “About English class? Damian said you guys are doing Shakespeare this year.”

“Yeah we are,” she agrees. It takes another second for her to tear her gaze away from the door, but at least she’s back on track. “It’s a little weird, but I like it. I like watching it even more, Mrs J put a DVD of it on for us and it was so good! I wish we could just write a paper on what it looks like instead of having to read it. That would be so much easier.”

“What play is it?”

“Um, I can’t remember the name, but these two girls go into the forest and one dresses like a boy,” Karen explains. “But it’s really good. Like, sunshine emoji and flower emoji good. You know?”

“Um… explain that to me,” Janis says. “Just so I understand.”

“Okay, so you know how I express myself with emojis? Well, there’s a system of emojis for how I rate stuff. So sunshine emoji is at the top, if it’s funny and it makes you think about stuff. Then flower emoji means-”

If there’s one thing no-one can deny about Karen, it’s how much she can talk. A lot of it is above most people, but Karen can fill in the gaps in a conversation like no-one else. And Janis has never appreciated that as much as she does right now when she doesn’t really feel like talking. She picks at the muffin in her lap, forcing her focus onto Karen and her emojis, not on the way her throat feels tight and stiff or how her gut is churning and it feels like something it pulling at her insides. She focuses on Karen, not the feeling of something slithering up her throat.

She bites down on the inside of her cheek, hoping Karen doesn’t notice. She forces herself to make little comments every now and then to keep up the pretence, even though talking, or any movement, is a greater task than it should be, and comes with a risk. Cold sweat trickles down her back as she wills her stomach to settle. For a moment there’s a flare of indignance because this is her body and it will cooperate with her, damn it. But she dampens it quickly as it only adds to the nausea rolling over her. She takes in a deep breath. She can keep it down. She can keep this down. She can-

She can’t.

“Sorry, Karen.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before she throws herself off the bed and bolts to the bathroom. She collapses to her knees just in time to grip the sides of the toilet and empty the contents of her stomach into the bowl. In those seconds, nothing else exists but her and the foul taste in her mouth and the tension in her shoulders as she heaves once again. She coughs and gags that the aftertaste in her mouth, simply relieved that it’s over. Her eyes burn and tears mix with sweat as the run down her face. She almost forgets where she is and what was happening before, until she spies Karen’s face in her peripheral vision and realises that the other girl has her hair held back from her face. She tries to thank her, but the words die on her lips and all Karen gets for her troubles is a weak, shaky half-smile.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a small voice. “I um… I-I went and got help.”

Oh, joy.

“Come here, love,” another voice says in her ear, kind and soft but not entirely familiar. Janis has probably met her before but the name escapes her. The unnamed nurse helps her stand and she has no choice but to let her lead her over to her bed, Karen just behind them. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she manages in between pants. “I’m fine, it was just…” She shrugs, or at least she tries to. “You know.”

“I think… I think it might have been my fault,” Karen pipes up. Her eyes glisten under the lights and her breath is short and quick and catches in her throat. “I think it was the muffins I brought.” That’s all that’s needed to set Karen off, mascara tinged tears running down her pink cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” the nurse tells her. Janis should be glad for it, since she’s too exhausted to speak for herself, but instead she has to avert her eyes to stop the feeling of helplessness spiking. She spent too long finding her voice not to use it.

“It’s not your fault, Karen,” she forces herself to say, wincing against her raw throat. “It wasn’t the muffins. I just… it happens. Sometimes the meds just make me sick.”

“But I thought they were meant to stop you from being sick,” Karen says, wiping at her eyes. Janis pats the spot on the bed next to her and takes her shoulder.

“They are,” she says. “And this just means they’re doing their job. I don’t get sick all the time, just sometimes. It’s not that often anyway.” She crosses her fingers behind her back. “Trust me, once this is all over and we’re back to normal, you can bake me all the muffins you want. Okay?”

Karen nods and before Janis has a chance to think of anything else, throws her arms around her and crushes her in a tight hug. Janis hugs her back, meaning to comfort her but getting some in return. She’ll say this for the shiny plastic, she gives great hugs, and she’s great to give hugs to.

Over the other girl’s shoulder, Janis watches the nurse flush the toilet before leaving, most likely to tell her mom or Doctor Wiley about what happened. Or both.

Karen sticks around for a little while, but Janis’ tiredness and her discomfort means she texts her mom to come pick her up sooner than she would have liked. She lets Janis keep the muffins and gives her another hug before she leaves.

“I hope you’re okay soon,” she whispers. Janis almost replies, ‘me too’, but has the common sense to settle for ‘thank you’ instead.

She leans back on the pillow once she’s gone, cherishing the short time she has to herself before Doctor Wiley inevitably comes in to check on her. She runs her hand through her hair, her mind going back to what she promised Karen. That once she’s back to normal, she can bake all the muffins she wants, and the unspoken assurance that it’ll all be fine then. It’s easy to promise, especially to Karen, but it’s less only now dawning on her that normal may be different that it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are fetch <3
> 
> and if you feel like helping out today, here's a carrd with info and resources about the current crisis in yemen :) https://yemencrisis.carrd.co/
> 
> hope you're all staying safe and sensible x


	9. Regina

The whistle blows just as Regina tosses the ball to the goal, and it sails past the keeper as her teammates are already packing up and the coach isn’t even looking. Last year, or hell, even a few months ago, she’d have been furious that no-one noticed or counted such a good shot; she’d have thrown her stick on the ground and probably screamed her head off until she got her way. But a lot happens in a year, and now she’s pulling her red vest off and shaking hands with the opposite team, other girls clapping her shoulder as they congratulate each other. What’s more, the smile on her face is real, despite her burning limbs and tangled hair. It’s the realest it’s been in a long while.

“Okay, good game girls,” their coach calls from the side of the field. “Go hit the showers before we go over the play. And George!” Regina turns around, greeted by the sight of her coach giving her the closest she can get to a smile. “Good game out there. Keep that up!”

Like her smile, the pride that flutters in her chest is real and it isn’t going to fade later on.

The changing room is already steaming up when she enters; towels thrown over the sides and mud-splattered uniforms crumpled on the benches. She’d laugh, but she doesn’t look much better. The weather’s been going downhill lately, making for some risky playing conditions, and the trail of mud across her shirt and caking her legs and nails are proof of that.

“Did I cause that?” Hannah asks, gesturing to Regina’s leg.

“Probably,” she replies with a grin. “You’re a little violent sometimes.”

“You’re one to talk, George,” she says. “You’re a beast out there.” Regina chuckles and turns on the tap, letting the hot water warm up her icy hands and get as much dirt as she can off her hands. Hannah isn’t wrong; her anger tends to manifest itself most when she’s on the field. But as she learned in physio, and from experience, it’s better to take it out on the sport than on the people around her. At least now, after a hard first few weeks, she’s learned how to channel it, rather than just playing while being angry. Which is why coming finishing off a game often makes her feel calmer and more in tune with herself than anything she’d tried before.

“Lucky she’s held onto that edge,” Kimberly comments, appearing at the sink beside her. “We need someone like that with championships coming up. Maybe that’s why we lost the last few years.”

“Or we just lost because you suck,” Hannah teases. Kimberly’s mouth falls into an ‘o’ and she flicks water in Hannah’s direction, right over Regina’s head. It’s practically nothing, especially when they’re so used to training in the rain, but Hannah takes it as though it was a speeding bullet and reaches for the other girl. “Little bitch.”

Regina slips into a free shower before the two of them can start a full-scale scrap. They’d surely ask her to take sides if she stuck around.

The hot water and steam is heaven for her rattled body, bringing life back into her limbs. The time is limited with the whole team needing to get in and notes to be given soon, but she makes the most of it. Even as the water scorches her scalp, it’s bliss to her, and she takes a minute to just stand there and let it hit her before grabbing her towel and heading back.

Sitting on the bench, she pulls her still-damp hair into a tight braid over her shoulder as they wait for the last of the team to come back out. The rain is letting up outside now and will probably be completely gone once they’re finished. Thank God, otherwise she’d definitely catch something walking home. Sure her mom could pick her up, she’s reminded her of that often enough, but she prefers walking. At least when she gets home she and her mom can have stuff to talk about rather than wasting it all in the car.

“Okay girls, listen up!” Coach Keller calls out as the last stragglers squeeze onto the bench or drop on the floor beside them. “Okay, we’re seeing a lot of improvements from the last time. There’s still a lot of work to be done vis-à-vis on-field communication. And some of you need to remember exactly what position you have on this team. Because too many times I have seen people changing mid-game.” There’s no prizes for who that’s directed at. Kimberly is already turning her head away.

“But we’ll be ready for when championships come around, and I’m expecting us to take home the trophy this year!” A cheer erupts from the bench and Regina’s right there with them. The idea of winning a trophy does do something for that competitive part of her brain, that can’t change, but the feeling she gets when her teammates scream out in united excitement does even more for her as a whole.

“Okay, okay settle down!” Coach calls above the noise, half laughing herself. Smiles are rare on that woman, which makes them even better. “And there’s one more item on the agenda to discuss before I let you girls go. I was talking to a buddy of mine recently and he gave me some information about a charity tournament coming up in the next few months. Now I know we don’t normally do friendlies, but I thought this year we could make an exception. The cause is cancer research.”

Regina can’t speak for the rest of them, but the word ‘cancer’ snaps her to attention and makes goosebumps prickle on her skin. Sure enough, the noise quietens down as the girls grow serious, which is something in itself. These girls often act like the word ‘serious’ doesn’t apply to them. Regina pulls her jacket tighter around herself as Coach’s next words confirm everything.

“I know you’re all missing a classmate this year,” she goes on. Regina wonders if she’s imagining how her voice wavers. “And it might mean a lot if we went and did this.” She bends her head enough so they won’t see the smirk on her face. This wouldn’t mean a lot to Janis. Not that she wouldn’t care; she simply wouldn’t get that sentimental. Not publicly anyway. She bets Janis will respond to this with nothing more than finger guns and the phrase ‘cool beans’. “So if we all rally to this, we could raise a lot of money for a good cause. And it would be good to put in the extra training.”

The team chuckles at that and then Coach lets them go with the reminder that they’ll be here again same time next week and to drive safe.

“What do you guys think of that?” Hannah asks as they all get up. They seem to instinctively form a little huddle as they walk, something else she hadn’t seen in her old friendships. Until recently, there was always a structured hierarchy with Karen and Gretchen, as opposed to the natural way she falls in step with the team.

“I think it sounds great,” another teammate, Zoey, adds. “I mean, it would be great anyway, but especially, you know… with Janis.” A murmur of agreement passes around them.

The first time they heard about Janis, it took a second for Regina to process it. The whole idea seemed so bizarre that it didn’t really hit her until she got home. How heartless she must have looked. Karen was close to tears in homeroom and Gretchen had looked pale, like she was the one ill, so she had stepped up. Done what she had always done. Taken charge of them.

The collective student body has gathered around her. For a few days, any and all mentions of cancer were met with hushes and raised eyebrows, as though it were something taboo. Now they can at least mention it and it’s become synonymous with wide eyes and sighs of sympathy. It’s still hard to talk about, and not just for her.

“What do you think about it, Regina?” Hannah asks, nudging her with her elbow.

“Hm?” She pulls on the strap of her bag. “Oh, yeah. I’m totally for it. That would be awesome.”

“Have you spoken to Janis? Like, at all?”

“Spoken to her?” she repeats.

“Yeah, I mean aren’t you and her-” Kim stops, but Regina can work it out for herself. The answer is no, of course. She and Janis aren’t friends, everyone knows that. Karen and Gretchen are friends with Janis. Regina is friends-miraculously-with Cady, and Cady is dating Janis. That’s their connection. It was different once upon a time, but then it fell apart.

Fell, she thinks. As if she didn’t pull it apart herself.

She pulls her sleeves over her hands and wraps her arms around her body, fully aware of the number of eyes on her. Contrary to popular opinion, she’s never really liked this much attention. Not even when it was her perfection being looked at, but especially not when it’s her flaws.

It takes a while, but she manages to say, “no I haven’t really spoken to her”. Her voice catches in her throat and she can only hope she manages to sound normal to everyone else. She clears her throat and tries again, trying to find that confident part of herself. Or at least, tries to fake it well enough.

“That kid Damian has though,” she continues. “He’s really close with her. He said she’s doing great.”

The faces before her break out into relieved smiles and she can calm down.

She walks the last stretch of road to her house alone, the few people who live in her direction having disappeared down their streets a while ago. While the topic of conversation had quickly changed, Regina’s mind hadn’t managed to wander away from Janis.

She’s thought about her a lot since Spring Fling. She guesses she thought about her before that, but she always pushed it down, along with all that gross guilt she was feeling. It was far easier to be cruel back then. Until it wasn’t.

At the dance, she could tell Janis was having a lot more fun than she was. Spinning in careless circles with her hair flying all around her, busting out the worst dance moves she had ever seen, twirling Karen around the floor, slinking off to a corner with Cady and coming back holding her hand. She had been glowing, well and truly glowing, something she hadn’t seen since middle school. Not looking over her shoulder for something, or someone to take it all away from her.

And somehow, Regina ended up smiling at it. Janis deserved that, after all.

That was the beginning of the end for her. The end of her reign over North Shore and the end of her being… that way. It was a long time coming. She meant what she said to Cady in the bathroom that night. She’d had enough of being the Queen Bee. She’d hoped they’d all go into senior year with clean slates for the future.

She should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. Even if things were normal for Janis, that wouldn’t be the case. She hurt her, plain and simple. Hurt her in the deepest, worst possible way and the worst part is she didn’t even realise she was doing it, not completely.

Her mom is sitting at the kitchen table when she gets in, a glowing mirror propped up on a stand and dozens of lipsticks strewn across the table. She puckers her lips as Regina approaches her and sets her back on the table, the pink glistening underneath the overhead light.

“Oh hi baby,” she greets. “How was school? How was practice? You need me to wash your gear for you?”

“School was fine, practice was fine.” Her mom abandons the lipsticks in a second and is by her side and picking up her bag before she can protest. She has to lunge forwards in order to grab it back off her.

 _Breathe_ she tells herself. A lot of this change stuff is a constant effort.

“Um, it’s okay, Mom,” she says. “I can do it myself.”

“Oh, only if you’re sure sweetie, I don’t want you straining yourself after practice. Besides, with this new job I have plenty of time to do your laundry for you, also I can rearrange your closet for you because it’s looking a little-”

“Mom!” she snaps. She shakes her head, her mom freezing where she is. “It’s okay, really. I’d prefer to wash it myself.” She cracks a smile and after a moment, reaches out and puts her hand on her mom’s shoulder. It’s the most natural-feeling thing she could do. “Besides, remember what happened last time you washed my lacrosse stuff? It’s best they go in on their own.”

“Well, if you’re sure honey.” Her mom’s eyes follow her around the room, no doubt thinking she’s being subtle. “Do you need a snack? I can whip up those little baby quiches you like so much after practice.”

“That’d be great, Mom, thanks.”

Her mom breaks into a smile that’s as relieved as the girls on the team were when she told them about Janis. Regina sits herself on the counter, shakes out her hair and runs her brush through it. She watches her mom buzz around the place, looking to her for approval when she places three mini quiches on the tray.

“Are you sore hon?”

“Not really. I will be tomorrow, probably.” She rubs her shoulder, feeling the onset already. It’s a good kind of pain though, if there ever was one. It means she actually went and did something.

Silence stretches between them, echoing off the white walls and the chrome of the kitchen. It demands to be filled with something real, not the nonsensical babble her mom likes to fill the empty spaces with. It’s not that she’s short of things to say, but it’s like everything else she’s started lately; a learning curve. She wants to take the steps, but the steps feel more like strides.

“So Coach thinks we have a shot at championships this year.”

“Oh, that’s exciting,” her mom says. “So you’d be playing then?”

“That’s the plan.”

“So when do they start?” she asks. “I want to be able to take the time off work to see you.”

“You don’t… You don’t have to. Not if it’s too hard.”

“Oh don’t be silly, I wouldn’t miss your games. That’s something lame moms would do.” She throws up a peace sign and an exaggerated wink. “And I’m a cool mom, right hon?”

“Yep,” she says through gritted teeth. They may be trying to rebuild their relationship, but that doesn’t mean that the idea of her mom at her lacrosse games doesn’t make her cringe. The image of her mom sitting in the stands with her fur coat and her sunglasses and her loud voice pops into Regina’s head and she’s glad her mom is turned away so she can’t see her shudder.

“There’s this other tournament she asked us about,” she goes on. “It’s a friendly one. For charity.”

“Oh, well that’s nice. What’s the charity?”

She takes a swing out of her water before answering.

“Cancer research.”

“Oh.” Her mom nods, the movement just as big as everything else she does and her mouth opens without a word coming out. Regina avoids her eyes. “Is that because of poor Janis?”

“Yeah. Well, she knows the person organising it and she thought it would be good.” She drums her nail on her thigh. “But I think it might be a little because of Janis.”

“Oh, it’s just awful what happened to her, isn’t it?” her mom asks. Regina can only nod. She doesn’t even notice her mom moving until she’s standing right in front of her, eyes full of sadness and a heavy pout on her lips. “How are you holding up with this?”

“Fine.”

“Oh honey, you don’t have to pretend to me. I mean, she’s your friend, isn’t she?”

“Sort of,” is her answer. It’s easier than the truth is in any case. Her mom never knew about what went down in middle school. She probably never will. “I heard from her other friends that she’s doing pretty well.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She picks up a kitchen towel and moves towards the oven. “You know, I was actually reading this article about teenage cancer on my tablet, and it was saying it’s about all these greenhouse gases in the air. You should go on Twitter and talk about that. Start a whole conversation over it. You have a lot of followers over there. They’d listen to you. Get the President on your side.”

“He blocked me,” she replies. She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks at that. As for her mom, she lets out a long sigh and shakes her head.

“And she’s such a nice girl too. She doesn’t deserve that. Not that anyone does, obvs.” She turns and looks at Regina with more severity than she’s ever seen in her life. “You be careful, okay?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Her mom squeezes her hand and Regina realises why she’s making such an effort in the first place.

“Okay, can you keep an eye on the mini quiches? I have to go finish up over there if I want to get everything in on time. They come out when it says 20 on the little clock.”

“Cool. Thanks mom.”

Her mom squeezes her face, and for her sake, she fights the instinct to roll her eyes and bat her hands away. It actually feels pretty nice.

When she pulls out her phone, the team chat is already popping off. Someone shared a-admittedly funny- meme. Amidst all the chaos, someone posted the details of the charity tournament. It starts in January, with quite a few other schools already signed up. She’s glad they’re doing it, and that everyone else is so onboard with it. Sure, they all have at least one personal stake in it, but it would feel good to do it either way.

She moves out and checks her other messages. The chat she’s in with Cady, Damian, Gretchen, Karen and Janis was alive just minutes ago, Karen asking their opinion on a skirt. Janis had sent in a message saying she liked it and joked around with everyone else, calling Damian a king and shamelessly flirting with Cady. Regina pushes away the feeling that she missed out and tells herself Janis must be feeling good today if she’s active.

A message Regina sent to her still sits in their private chat, unopened and unanswered. Their chat is almost barren and she’ll admit the reasons for it are good. But she had felt optimistic that day when she texted her. Naïve even, for the first and last time in her life. There’s still a lot of work to be done, but she actually wants to do it.

*****

Her legs do hurt the next day. She feels it the minute she wakes up and it follows her around throughout the day. She gets understanding smiles and eye rolls from the girls on the team, though, and Karen and Gretchen wince along with her in sympathy. And she’s almost gotten used to it, so she can only take it in stride for the rest of the day and curse the new warm-ups Coach gave them.

She’s walking down the stairs to free period when she spots a bundle of caramel-coloured curls a little ahead of her, falling over a denim jacket, and suddenly her palms get sweaty. People might not believe it, but she’s capable of being scared, or at least nervous. Even of sweet and soft little Cady Heron. She doesn’t slow down, she never does, but she does consider it. Instead she keeps going and watches as Cady perks up as she passes her.

“Hey,” she greets, slipping her phone into her pocket.

“Hi.”

Regina’s pretty fascinated by her relationship with Cady. Next to Janis, Cady is probably the person she’s done the most harm to. After all, she got suspended for the Burn Book. It should have been her. That fact was one of the hardest to take responsibility for, but it should have been her suspended. Now who knows what could happen to Cady. Cady has every right to hate her, and yet she has gone out of her way to integrate their two worlds. She lets Regina sit with her at lunch and added her into the groupchat and lets her see her private story (it’s just pictures of her with animals from Kenya). Even outside of lunchtime and groupchats, she treats Regina like she would any old friend. There’s no hostility or distrust on her end.

It’s weird.

“Hey, did you get that American Lit essay back yet?” she asks. “Because Mr Greer takes forever to hand them back.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t given me mine back either,” she sighs. “I don’t know. I think I did okay in it. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Seriously? I thought it was so hard,” Cady responds, pulling her bag up on shoulder. “I’ll never get all this literature stuff. There’s just so many meanings and stuff. It’s why I prefer math.”

“Yeah, because you’re good at calc,” Regina says. Her chest eases the longer they speak. “I’m sure you did fine, though.”

“Thanks.” She drums her fingers on her file as silence falls between them. Not even Cady can keep up conversation forever, especially if there’s not a third party here to bounce off of. There normally is, and the space next to her feels distinctly empty.

The lack of talking suddenly gets to Regina as she looks down the long stretch of hallway they have to go to study hall, and panic stirs up in her brain, forcing her to blurt out the first thing that comes to her head.

“So, um, we might be doing this charity tournament,” she says. “The lacrosse team, I mean.”

“Oh,” Cady says, her mouth falling into a small ‘o’ before she smiles. “Hey that’s really cool. What’s the charity? Or are you allowed to say anything about that yet? I know how exclusive the jocks can be.”

“I’m not a jock,” she says indignantly, only for Cady to laugh and bump her shoulder against hers.

“Well, you know what I mean,” she says. “Sports person. You guys are like your own little society.”

“The one clique you couldn’t break,” she says.

“Yeah.”

Regina presses her palms together, nervous and unable to understand why. Surely Cady would love this, right? It’s her girlfriend who has…

Oh. She gets why now. Even now, when ‘cancer’ isn’t treated as a dirty word, it’s still so charged with meaning, especially around Cady and Damian. On more than one occasion, conversation has died down when they enter the room and they know what they had been talking about. It’s not out of disrespect, but out of concern for their feelings. That’s why she’s biting the inside of her cheek now. Tiptoeing around such a delicate subject and hoping she doesn’t break Cady by doing so.

“It’s cancer research,” she says after a while. Her voice is as cheerful as she can make it, hiding all the tremors and cracks that might appear and show what’s underneath. She subtly watches Cady’s movements, anticipating the slightest twitches or changes one way or the other.

The first is her lips pressing together. The second is a tight nod. The third is her hand flexing at her side.

“Oh, that’s cool,” she says. “That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, it is,” she replies. “I mean, we don’t usually go charity tournaments or friendlies, but Coach thought it might be good for us. You know, extra training and all that. Plus it’s you know, a good cause.”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounds so lost and faraway for a girl standing right beside her that it almost makes Regina grind to a halt. She clears her throat and turns to face her, her smile open and breathless and real. That’s something she likes about Cady, always has. She’s real. Even when it would be easier to hide it, she’s real. “That’s great. I mean… I take it it’s because of Janis.”

“Yeah.” Janis’ name hits Regina in the chest like a little bee sting, not unbearable, but noticeable and she knows it will be there for the rest of the day.

“That’s awesome.” Cady’s eyes shine with gratitude. “She’ll be really happy to hear that.”

“Sure just don’t tell her I’m doing it,” she says flatly. “Then she’ll think it’s a scheme.”

“Oh come on,” she laughs. “You two aren’t nearly as bad as you used to be. And maybe when she hears about you doing this, she’ll warm up to you even more.”

“You have a lot of faith in me,” she tells her. Which is both another thing she admires her for and something she’s fascinated by.

Cady simply shrugs.

“Well, you know how it is,” she says. She doesn’t, but she nods along. “You’re not such a bad little egg.”

“Thanks?”

Cady opens her mouth, probably to say something else, but her hand flies to her back pocket and all at once her attention is diverted to her phone. She does a quick check of the hallway, knowing they’re not meant to have their phones out during school hours. Regina had her phone confiscated countless times before she knew how to hide it properly. Cady has yet to master that and so she pulls her to the side and blocks her phone with her shoulder, pulling her arm down so it’s less visible. Cady doesn’t seem to notice at all, her eyes glued to the phone screen and her whole face softening at whatever it was. Regina doesn’t look at it. Whatever it is, it’s obviously not for her. Cady taps out a quick response, fingers flying over the keyboard and stops to proofread it before sending it off.

They stand in the silence together, Cady’s phone casting the smallest bit of light on her face and wait until the screen fades to black.

“Cady?” Regina asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” she says, putting her phone back in her pocket and looking back up at her. “It was Janis.”

“I guessed,” she says, pulling Cady along. Feeling brave, she asks “How’s she doing?”

“Oh, she’s good. She just sent me a selfie of her in the hospital,” she says. There’s a small, wistful sigh after it, and her hand reaches up to twirl her necklace. “She looked cute.”

“That’s good,” she says. “That she’s doing okay. Would you uh… tell her I was asking about her?”

“Oh, sure! Yeah absolutely!” There’s the slightest hint of surprise in her tone, but Regina can’t complain about it, instead nodding gratefully and the two of them setting off down to study hall, picking up the pace a bit so that they’re not even later than they already are.

*****

That evening, she comes downstairs clad in her leggings and a sweater, the rain picking up on the window and her phone buzzing in her sweater pocket. Her mom is laying on the couch and running a sparkly pink brush through the dog’s hair humming some old, dreamy song under her breath.

“Hey sweetie!” she says, her voice melodic. “How’s the homework going?”

“Fine. Just getting some coffee.”

“Oh would you make me one too?” she asks. “Just a little cappuccino. If I get up Boba might pee.”

“Sure.” She keeps one eye on her phone and one on the coffee maker, watching the groupchat as she foams up the milk. It’s the one of her, Cady and the rest of her friends, and most importantly, Janis is active in it. She was always the life of the chat before, keeping them up at two am with some wild theory or weird joke, but they’ve all noticed how she’s sort of wavered since this year started. Not tonight though. Tonight she’s so alive that Regina almost forgets how silent she can be some days.

**Janis:** _I wonder which one of us will break first and get TikTok._

**Janis:** _To be perfectly candid, my money is on Damian._

**Janis:** _Damian’s gonna be on theatre kid TikTok._

**Damian:** _I am disgusted by the very idea. It could well be Regina. She seems dramatic enough for it. No offence, babe._

Followed by a kissing emoji off all things. With a grin and a laugh, Regina grinds the coffee beans and gets out two mugs before sending in an ‘In all of your dreams’. She means it. Instagram and Twitter are more than enough for her and frankly, TikTok kind of scares her.

The phone buzzes again, this time a picture from Janis; a picture of fries and what are probably vegetarian nuggets.

 _Dinner for tonight_ _😊_ she says _They finally got veggie nuggets :D_

 _That’s an overabundance of emojis_ Cady says.

 _No it’s not. It’s perfect_ Karen argues. She adds that the dinner looks puppy emoji plus sparkle emoji, which must mean good. Anyone can tell that.

 _It is_ Janis tells them. _They took on my suggestion to expand their vegetarian menu._

 _You’d think as a hospital they’d already know how to do that_ Regina says. There’s a ten second pause before anyone responds and she tries not to let it bother her, pouring the milk into the two cups instead.

 _You would think_ Janis responds. _I got like three people in the ward on my side._

 _Vive la revolution,_ Cady adds in, with an emoji of a French flag. Damian responds with a GIF from Hamilton and Regina can feel them rolling her eyes along with her.

 _Miss Caddy don’t you have homework to do?_ Janis asks. _Actually don’t answer that because I know you do since you were complaining about it to me two minutes ago._

 _I’m all finished_ Cady says. Janis’ response is a screenshot of a text Cady sent her two minutes before according to the timestamp.

“Oh, you’re in trouble, Cady Cady,” Regina mutters as she sprinkles cinnamon and chocolate over both mugs and takes them over to her mom. They’re pretty good, especially with her lack of barista skills. Definitely going on her story.

“Oh thanks hon,” her mom says. When her phone buzzes in her hand, both her mom’s and her dog’s head perk up. “Anything interesting?”

“Just my friends,” she says. Her mom nods, taking a long sip.

“Oh, this is real good, Regina.” Regina nods again and snaps a few pictures of her own mug, testing out about four or five angles and two filters before settling on one that works. She probably would have gone through more if Janis hadn’t sent in another message into the chat, so she saves it to work on later.

 _Lies. I know those are lies,_ she says. _The veggie nuggets aren’t as good as the ones at home_ _☹_

 _I’m sure that’s the saddest part about your current situation,_ Regina says. Once she says it, she wonders if a line was crossed. If not, no-one tells her.

 _If someone were to drop a bag of Grandma Eden’s vegan nuggets to the front desk and say it was for me, I would not be opposed,_ Janis says instead. _To be honest, kind of offended about the lack of PTA moms dropping casseroles on the doorstep._

The chat keeps going, the phone shaking and lighting up in her hand, but it melts away from her, Janis’ message sticking out to her. Out of nowhere, she remembers her mom making lasagnes for her aunt when she was sick a few years ago and dropping it off on her doorstep. Regina never went with her, the idea of seeing her sick aunt making her stomach uneasy, but she remembers her mom doing twice the cooking she normally did. And how happy it made her aunt’s family, according to her mom. She didn’t appreciate the value of it back then, it’s crystal clear now.

“Hey, mom,” she says after a while. “Could I… could I maybe use the kitchen at some point?”

“Oh sure. What do you need it for?”

She looks back at the group chat, the topic having changed to Cady’s love of math and the other’s lack thereof, but she scrolls back up a few messages.

“Do we have any vegetarian recipes?” she asks.

*****

Her arms are aching by the time she gets to the Sarkisian’s house on Saturday. This is what she gets for using the nicest-and heaviest- dish her family owns, she supposes. Standing on their doorstep, she awkwardly shifts it onto her arm, her breath catching as it tilts before steadying, and reaches out to ring the doorbell. She presses it quickly, not leaving herself enough time to change her mind.

She won’t deny that her heart clenches as the handle turns, even if she masks it behind her charming smile. The same one she’s used with almost every adult since she was fourteen.

“Hey, Mr Sarkisian,” she greets. A kind of polite confusion clouds Mr Sarkisian’s face, which swiftly turns to recognition, and then even more confusion.

“Regina?” he asks. “Regina George.”

“Mm-hm.” Thank God she’s practiced this over and over before she came. “I made you guys a lasagne. Could I come in?”

He eyes the dish in her hands like she’d just told him she was dropping off a baby wildebeest for Janis. But he nods and steps back, letting her into the hallway.

It hasn’t changed much since she was here last. The hallway is still the same at least, although there are now photos of the Janis she wasn’t friends with. Her at the middle school graduation, her on the beach what must be the summer after freshman year, her with her parents and Damian at last year’s art show. Regina’s watching her old friend grow up before her eyes, looking through a window at everything she missed.

“Oh, you redecorated!” she exclaims as they step into the kitchen. She remembers the walls here being white as opposed to the blue they are now, plus there’s a new oven and fridge and kitchen table. She must remember more than she thought she did. “It’s really nice.”

“Yeah. We did.”

His flat tone pulls Regina down a bit. More than a bit, although she refuses to let it show. If there’s one thing she has learned, it’s that. She knows how to put on an act, and so she turns to face Mr Sarkisian with the same smile plastered onto her face. He just continues to look at her with an unreadable expression and stands as far away from her as he can, all the while the ticking clock punctuates the silence between them.

“So um, I made you this lasagne,” she tells him.

“You did?” he asks.

“Yeah. I mean I got a little help with it; you know how it is. My mom refused to let me fool around in the kitchen alone. But it’s my grandma’s recipe. It’s vegetarian, because… I mean I know; Janis is one.”

Is this babbling? Is she babbling right now?

“Janis isn’t here.” He folds his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Oh.. I know,” she says. “I know, but just in case you want to give her some when she gets back. It’ll keep for a good while if you freeze it.”

He pushes himself away from the counter and moves over to her. It’s getting harder to maintain this demeanour, what with the suspicion she can see in his eyes from here. He does at least take the dish out of her hands and she doesn’t bother hiding her sigh of relief as she shakes out her arms.

He slides it carefully into the fridge and turns to look at her, his arms over his chest. He isn’t playing by the script Regina had prepared. She assumed he’d either see her out or get her a drink and invite her to sit down. Instead he regards her like she’s an interrogation suspect. And her gut tells her he’s being bad cop.

“Why did you do this?” he asks her.

“Oh, I… I just thought it would be nice.” Honesty isn’t her strong suit. Neither is vulnerability and those are the two things he’s likely expecting from her. Unfortunately, she still has the fatal flaw of pride. “And if there’s anything else your family needs, you can ask me.”

He coughs, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. She presses her palms together and continues.

“I mean the whole school is getting behind Janis,” she goes on. “The lacrosse team is doing this charity tournament and the Mathletes-”

“Janis isn’t a charity,” he tells her sharply. His hand curls around the counter and holds it tight enough to turn his knuckles white. A nerve apparently got touched here.

“Okay...” She clears her throat and pushes her hair off her shoulder. “I just wanted to help.”

“Yeah you helped Janis a lot back in middle school,” he says. He locks eyes with her and a chill runs down her spine. “Didn’t you?”

She opens her mouth, but then closes it again, knowing there’s nothing to say here. Her first instinct is to call him rude, tell him she went and made him and his family a lasagne and offered him help. But thankfully it fades before she can act on it, and the truth stares her in the face. She deserved that. She deserves the anger in his gaze towards her and the feeling of invisible ants crawling over her skin.

She pulls her sleeve over her hands and clenches her fists tightly.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is pathetically small and it comes out as more of a question than an admission. Mr Sarkisian nods slowly, his fingers tapping against the counter. She could tell him that she’s trying, that she does regret what she did, but she’s pretty sure it won’t make a difference to him.

“Thank you for the lasagne,” he tells her. There’s more honesty in that than in anything she’s said so far. “I’ll tell Janis you came by.”

“She might not eat it if you do,” she says quietly.

He laughs at that, even if it’s half-hearted.

She gets the bus back home, finding a route on her phone that goes to the top of her street. Luckily, she has change in her purse, because she’s certain that she wouldn’t have the guts to ask Mr Sarkisian for some after what just happened.

His words follow her around like a persistent little bee that buzzes in her ear. She wants to dismiss him as a dick, but unfortunately, despite the work still needed, she can’t find it in her to do it. A lot of the time, she wishes she could just wake up an effortlessly good person. Other times she wishes she was still a bitch.

She sits down heavily on the bench and takes out her phone, tapping open Facebook (thank God for infinite data). It’s not really for the app, she just wants to focus on something. Her feed is mostly full of shit she saw on Instagram last week; mirror selfies, heads of clubs promoting their events, those idiotic memes her mom likes to post. It flies past her eyes in a blur and lets her brain turn foggy for a few moments.

But then out of all the black and white and blue, something catches her eye and she scrolls back up. It was shared by Caitlyn Caussin, advertising some hair salon. She wondered why the hell that would catch her eye, until she realised that’s not what it was. It was a charity, one where you donate your hair for cancer victims.

Regina keeps looking at the ad, so captivated by it that she would have missed the bus if the driver hadn’t honked at her. She looks at it closer as she rides home, her gut pulling her towards it. According to the text on the poster, you need at least 8 inches of undyed hair, and she’s glad when she sees she ticks both boxes. And then it’s shipped off to wigmakers and given to cancer patients. And if the grinning kid in the picture is anything to go by, it does its job well.

Regina touches her own hair. Up until now you’d have to kill her if you wanted her to cut any of her hair off. After all, something like this doesn’t just happen and she would not look good with a bob. But this feels different and she won’t pretend she doesn’t know why. She won’t get up and do it tomorrow, but she won’t completely dismiss the idea either.

She takes a screenshot of it and feels a small flush of excitement as she thinks about it. Well, not excitement, but something close to it. Something warm and light and fuzzy that she can’t quite pin down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? comments? reactions?
> 
> as always, hope you guys are staying safe and sensible in this time x


	10. Janis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah this is gonna be an angsty one

Friday finally rolls around again, and Janis is packing up her stuff again and getting ready to go home. Her mom is down the hall with some of the other kid’s moms, probably swapping stories about treatments and comparing the nurses.

As Janis has bonded with the kids on the ward, the parents have done the same; meeting for coffee in the hospital cafeteria or gathering in someone’s empty room to chat. Sometimes it’s about cancer, of course, but their topics have been getting more and more diverse lately. Just days ago Janis walked in on her mom discussing gardening with none other than Maddie’s mom and she’s overheard them talking about the Kardashians over breakfast. And of course, their moms talk about what they were like as little kids, and it’s painfully embarrassing. Janis has joked to Melissa more than once that she’s tempted to request painkillers so she can knock herself out. They also started jokingly referring to themselves as the “cancer moms”, and last night her mom showed Janis the group chat they’d created with the same name. Janis’ jaw had nearly hit the floor and all she said was that she hoped they weren’t planning on getting t-shirts.

Still, she thinks with a smile, at least her mom is making friends here.

She rolls up her sweater and shoves it into her bag, sure it’s wrinkled but it’s going straight into the laundry once she gets in. On Melissa’s advice, she’s started doing most of her laundry at home where she can control when and how it happens (and by that she means she can tell her mom how to do it). Bless the laundry service here, because they really do try, but more often than not her sweaters come back stiff and there’s nothing like pulling her clothes straight out of the dryer at home.

With her clothes in the bag, she gets up from where she was kneeling on the floor, shakes out her stiff legs, and moves over to the bathroom. Her make-up bag sits on the sink, the mascara and tube of lipstick strewn across the shelf along with her hairbrush. Her face is bare today, make-up having slipped her mind again between treatments and appointments and hospital life. She checks it in the mirror, sighing deeply at what she sees. Cady swears up and down she looks the same as she always did whenever they Facetime and her mom hasn’t made any comments, but she can tell there’s a difference now. Those dark shadows have taken up permanent residence under her eyes and sometimes it’s hard for her to tell what’s her face and what’s her sheets. There’s so many changes that no-one seems to notice but her.

Maybe she’s looking too hard, or maybe she just knows what to look for.

With an idea sparking in her mind, she reaches over and grabs the make-up bag. She checks her watch, finding that they still have plenty of time before she’s discharged. And sure she could spend that time continuing to pack, but this is more fun. It’s still productive, just not in the way people would think it. And fine, maybe she just needs it right now. So she unscrews the lid of the foundation and gets to work before she can talk herself out of it.

At least her hands aren’t shaking today. She learned the hard way that no matter how hard you believe you can apply your make-up while your hands are shaking, you can’t.

Even with her steady hands though, she’s not doing much. Kind of because she’s on a schedule and kind of because she’s not seeing anyone important. It’s not like when Cady and Damian are coming over and she spends an hour building the best version of herself for them. She just wants to look like a human, rather than this half-zombie that’s taken her place in the mirror. So she hides the darkness behind foundation and fills out her cheeks, paints over her lips with purple, rings her eyes in black and makes her eyelashes bigger.

She can’t quite pin down the feeling she’s having as she goes along. What she does know that the more she puts on, the better she feels when she looks in the mirror. Yes, she should know better by that, and she does. Kind of. This isn’t the old kind of preteen insecurity. She’s had enough of Cady’s speeches about natural beauty to chase all those fears away. But she’d wager Cady has never been spooked by what she saw in the mirror before, so what would she know?

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself. She drops the mascara tube back in the bag and zips it shut. “Can you stop being so dramatic?” She looks up at the mirror again, giving herself a smile. There she is. Good old, normal Janis. She lets out a breath and takes the tie out of her hair, letting it fall past one shoulder. She must have forgotten about brushing it as well.

“Easily fixed.”

She runs the brush through her hair, humming under her breath and trying to think of what else she should be packing, checking off the little boxes in her brain and the excitement at going home daring to creep in.

Until she pulls the brush away and feels a lot more come with it.

 _No_ she thinks.

She keeps her eyes locked on her reflection’s, willing herself not to look at it. If she doesn’t look, it doesn’t exist. She doesn’t normally like uncertainty, but she’ll gladly take it here if the reality is this. Her hand is frozen in place, her fingers still curled around the brush’s handle. Her other hand grabs the sink. The cold of the metal creeps through her skin and into her veins, travelling through her just like her chemo does.

The stupid freaking chemo. Her IV stands behind her, mocking her even if she’s not using it. If this is what she thinks it is, this is the reason why.

“Okay,” she whispers. She shakes out her hands and wriggles her toes to try to get any feeling back into them. “Okay, come on.” She tries to imagine her friends next to her, giving her advice, but their words fade away before they reach her. Of course they do. She can’t know what they’d say to her about this. She can guess, but she can’t know. Besides, she can barely think when she’s like this, when her brain is shutting down and running away from her she’s being left to fend for herself.

It’s the ticking behind her, the loudest sound in the room, that gets her to calm down. Even when she wants to stop, the world moves on, and her mom is coming back in here any second. Meaning she needs to be herself when she does. So she looks and presses her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.

Her hair is in the brush. Not a few strands of it, a whole clump of black and blonde hands from her brush. Her hand goes to the spot it had been, amazed that there’s anything left. When her fingers brush against her scalp, a whimper escapes her mouth before she can think to stop it.

Her hair fell out.

Her hair is falling out.

How does she react to this? Has anyone told her how to react? No, of course not, because she hasn’t asked. Denial and blind hope can run deep. If she doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t happen. Only now it has happened, is happening, and she’s heading into it blind whether she wants to or not.

Denial seems to be the most attractive option, so she jumps to it. She rips the clump off the brush, shuddering as it slides between her fingers, and she drops it into the toilet, letting it be flushed down the drain and out to sea. Far out of sight and hopefully, far out of mind.

She looks at the brush for a moment, recoiling away from it like it’s a snake. What she wants to do it throw it away too, just like the clump, and her mom is the only reason she doesn’t. Instead she throws it into her bag, burying it down at the bottom.

“Okay.” She lets out a breath and kneels back on her heels, her hands held out as if she’s reaching for something. Like she can just grab an answer out of thin air. “Come on, you’re smarter than that,” she whispers. There isn’t an answer here, not to this. This happens to cancer patients, all the time. What made her think herself so special she was above it? It’s already happened to some people, like Maddie for example, who runs around in beanies all day. She knew it would happen on that first day in the doctor’s office with the kids on the poster.

She’s going to become a kid on a poster.

She bawks at the idea and her hand instinctively flies to her head. Her fingers cautiously move over the black waves, barely touching anything lest she take any more out.

 _Breathe_ she tells herself. In for eight, out for eight. She’s been through this, on both sides of it, and yet this is worse. Like every time before this was a jogging and this is running a marathon. Even as she stumbles towards the finish line, her vision clearing and her brain calming itself enough to think, the tightness in her chest is still there. She wraps one clammy, cold hand around her bedpost and pulls herself up, her other hand shoved into her pocket, and keeps on counting her breaths. When she glances up, she catches sight of herself in the mirror and it’s with relief that she sees how normal she looks. For her, the entire world has shattered around her, but for everyone else, it’s just another day.

She’s so good at faking it that her mom doesn’t notice anything wrong for the next hour as they get ready to go. No one does, not the nurses who do last checks and bid her goodbye for the week, nor the receptionist who checks her and her mom out. Maybe she can fake it long enough until…

She’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

“Janis!” Maddie runs across the room towards her, her little beanie tight over her head. Much as Janis tries, and crappy as she feels, it’s almost all she can see on the girl.

“Hey, kid,” she says, clearing her throat. She swallows everything else she’s thinking and holds out her fist for a first pump. “Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“No promises.” She steps closer to her, her chin tilted upwards, and pulls Janis down to her. Excitement gleams in her eyes, but Janis barely notices it; she’s too bust thinking about how few eyelashes she has. That hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Her throat runs dry.

“Hey, I heard that the Make A Wish Foundation came to you,” she whispers.

“Oh, and where did you hear that?”

“From my mom,” she admits sheepishly. “She heard it from your mom.”

“Word sure travels fast in here,” she says flatly.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” she asks.

“Not yet,” she says. “Haven’t thought about it too much.” She lets Maddie drag her over to the couches and sit her down, the wide eyed look never leaving the kid’s face. “What did you do for yours?”

“Oh, I went to see Frozen on Broadway,” she blurts out, her smile exploding on her little face. “And I got to go backstage and meet the cast. They gave us front row seats as well. It was the best day of my life.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Janis tells her. “My friend Damian, he’s a big musical theatre geek. He really wants to see Frozen.”

“I just really love Frozen,” Maddie says. “And Elsa, obviously.”

“We do love Queen Elsa.” Just then, Janis wonders if she ever used to braid her hair like Elsa. Janis hasn’t, and it hits her that if she wants to, she might have to do it fast.

“Just make sure it’s something you really want,” she advises her. “I stressed so much over it. It ended up being between Frozen and Disneyland.”

“How ever did you manage?” Janis says dryly. She looks up just in time to see her mom waving her over, phone in hand, letting her know her dad is in the parking lot. “I gotta go, kid. See you next week.”

“See you later,” she says. “Oh, by the way, I meant to give you this at movie night, but I forgot.” She reaches into her pocket and hands her a scrap of pink paper folded into a square. Inside, Janis finds the word _MaddieThePanda_ and _madisonrichards_ written in pencils. Embarrassingly, it takes her a second to recognise them, but the first has a drawing of a ghost and the second a doodle of a camera.

“Ah, the socials,” she says. Maddie nods, avoiding her eyes, and Janis pulls her into a light hug before getting up. “I’ll follow you the minute I get home, okay?”

“Awesome!” she squeaks and she scampers off, leaving Janis to join her mom.

“She’s a nice girl,” her mom comments as they ride down the elevator.

“You’re quite pally with her mom,” Janis says. “She’s in the cancer mom squad, right?”

“She is. So what did Maddie give you?”

“Instagram and Snapchat,” she replies, holding the piece of paper between her fingers. Janis’ own Instagram has been fairly barren since this started, despite how much she scrolls through her own feed and watches her friends’ accounts. Even her art account has been empty for a while. Unsurprisingly, she hasn’t felt like posting much. And she’s very much aware of the fact that she might be posting a lot less in the near future.

“Are you okay?” her mom asks.

“Fine.” She readjusts the mask she’s had on all day and falls back on her usual line. “I’m just tired.” The best thing about that line is that technically it’s not a lie.

When she does get home, she sets herself up on the couch, blanket thrown over her and phone in hand. Her dad sits on the chair next to her and a gameshow plays on the TV. This has become some kind of tradition between she and her dad. And Maxie, of course. Despite how much she’s missed her bed, she’s missed her dad more, so she stretches out on the couch with a blanket fresh from the dryer and the two of them catch up. And if (and when) the conversation runs dry, they can shout answers at the TV.

“Alex Kingston,” she says, nodding at the question. British Actors Who Were On Doctor Who. Which really is all of Britain. “Told you that Doctor Who obsession I had in middle school would come in handy.”

“Did you tell me that?” her dad asks. “I cannot remember you telling me that.”

“I did.” Still watching, she opens her phone and taps open Instagram. The little scrap of paper sits on her lap and she types Maddie’s name into the searchbar. She finds her account fairly easily, but she’s in for a shock when she does.

Maddie’s healthy self is on this account. It does look like her, it’s unmistakable, but it still shakes her to see her like that, hanging upside-down from a tree, running across a soccer pitch, dressed up as Elsa at Comic Con. Her suspicion was right; Maddie is blonde. Was.

She checks the date on her last ‘normal’ looking post and finds it was a little over two months. Maddie sitting cross-legged on her trampoline, two of her little school friends on either side. There was a tumour inside her at that moment and no-one even knew. She looks happy, carelessly happy. Blissful, even.

It’s not that she looks like two different people. That was kind of her expectation, but it’s not true. She still looks like herself, and it’s precisely the similarity between them that freaks her out. It’s the way the girl with a long blonde ponytail chasing a soccer ball and the frail little thing who sits on the end her hospital bed are the same person.

Maxie jumps on her lap just as her hand reaches for her own hair. While her dad scolds him and tells him to get off her, she shakes her head, insisting that it’s fine. When she kisses his fluffy little head, it’s a thank you. He licks her face and she takes it as a ‘you’re welcome’.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Her mom places a grilled cheese on the table next to her and pats her head before heading over to the couch. “Do you need anything else? I can get you a drink if you-”

“I’m fine.” She nods at the end of the couch, where her backpack sits. “There’s water in my bag anyway.” Her mom nods in understanding and settles next to her dad.

“Which team do we want to win?”

“The college students,” Janis answers, taking a bite out of her sandwich. Of all the tastes she misses, her mom’s grilled cheese is up there. At least the chilli flakes she put on it gives it something. “They deserve it.”

“That old bat certainly doesn’t,” her dad grumbles. “She’s been giving her daughter the stink eye since round one.”

“Oh she looks like she would,” her mom jokes. “Hey Jan, did you tell your dad about the Make A Wish people?”

“The Make A Wish people?” her dad echoes, looking over at her. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Well, now you know,” she says casually, tearing her crusts off. Both her parents look to her expectantly, her dad no doubt excited about this. She’d be lying if she weren’t excited herself though. “It’s sort of what it says on the tin. I make a wish and the good people of the Make A Wish Foundation let it come true. Within reason, obviously. I don’t think they can give me a unicorn.”

“They could strap a horn to a little pony’s head,” her dad suggests.

“That’s animal abuse!” she says. “You know how I feel about the animals.”

“But have you thought about what you want?” her mom interrupts. “I mean, there’s no pressure, but any ideas?”

Janis purses her lips and pushes herself into a semi-normal sitting position. She has, although she wouldn’t call it ‘thinking about it’. More like ‘the first thing that came into her head’. But in her defence, it’s a really good one.

“There is one thing,” she says. “One place I’ve sort of always wanted to go but I never thought about asking for it because I knew it would be way too expensive.” Her mouth turns up into a smile before she can stop herself. Her parents eyes are wide as anticipation builds, both their attentions held tightly in her hand. Her next words are less spoken, more of a squeak. “The Kröller-Müller Museum. In the Netherlands.”

“The where now?” her dad asks.

“The Kröller-Müller Museum!” Janis replies, throwing the blanket off her. Just saying it out loud flipped a switch in her and now she’s bouncing on the couch, words tumbling out of her mouth. “It has one of the best collections of Van Gogh paintings! And basically anyone who was anyone in modern art!”

“Oh, there’s the obsession with Van Gogh,” her mom says. “Thought you left that behind in high school.”

“You thought wrong,” Janis tells her. “He’s my man. And also the Netherlands is meant to be like, really beautiful and I really want to go there. But also this art gallery! This art gallery let me tell you about it! It has a whole garden full of sculptures! And it’s not just European art-”

“Okay, Janis,” her mom chuckles. It’s then that Janis realises she actually stood up in her excitement, her phone at the ready, probably to show them everything and explain why exactly they should say yes to this. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we can do.”

“It is?”

“Of course,” her dad says. “It’s your wish. Also I’d love to see the Netherlands. We could make a whole vacation out of it without paying for anything ourselves.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, bouncing up and down on the spot. Any and all dizziness she gets from this will be well worth it. “Oh, could I potentially bring Cady and Damian along with me?”

“If the good people at Make A Wish don’t have an issue with it,” her mom says. “Which I don’t think they will.”

“Oh my god yes!” She punches the air before breaking out into a little happy dance, her feet shuffling on the floor and her arms pumping. “I have to go tell Cady about this. Oh my god!”

Her mom barely has time to ask if she wants help before she picks up her bag and runs upstairs, grilled cheese in her hand. She feels as though this smile is permanently plastered on her face as she imagines her showing Cady around the gallery, telling her all about her favourite pieces, the two of them walking through the sculpture garden.

It’s almost enough to make her forget that this is just a cancer treat.

The five seconds it takes Cady to pick up the phone are torturous, her feet banging against her bed as she waits.

“Hey,” Cady greets, looking adorable with her hair falling around her shoulders and a white sweater engulfing her body. “Someone’s happy. You in your room?”

“Yep,” she answers. “My actual room, not my other room.”

“That’s not confusing,” Cady chuckles. “Wait a second.” She picks up the phone and sits against her wall, balancing her phone on her knees. “Okay, is this angle good?”

“All angles with you are good,” she says, turning onto her stomach so her feet and swing in the air. “Okay, so guess what?”

“Um… what?” she replies.

“You have to guess.”

“Okay, fine,” she says. “Um, they let Maxie come into the hospital with you.”

“Ugh, I wish,” she sighs. “But no. Keep guessing.”

“You… found out whether or not the hot medical student is gay so you can set him up with Damian?”

“Sadly, that’s still a question mark. Come on, one more guess.”

“I hate guessing, just tell me,” she says. “You look like you’re bursting to anyway.”

“You’re right, I am” she says. “So… what would you say to an all-expenses paid trip to Europe?”

“I’d say you’re kidding, right?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” she says proudly. “The Make A Wish Foundation.” Those words make Cady’s mouth fall open in a perfect, precious ‘o’ shape. “Oh yeah baby, they can give us a fancy little European vacation to the Netherlands.”

“Oh my gosh!” Cady says, laughter lining her voice. “Where, when, how, why?”

“The how is Make A Wish,” Janis explains. “The where is the Kröller-Müller Museum in Gelderland.” She definitely didn’t pronounce that properly. “The why is that it’s been my dream vacation since I could form coherent thoughts. And I want my best people with me when I go see it.” Maybe it’s a trick of the camera light, but Janis is sure she can see Cady’s cheeks turn pink.

“You sappy munch,” she tells her.

“Can I take that as ‘you’re in’?” Janis asks.

“You can take it as a ‘frick yes, I’m in’,” she replies between giggles.

“Fabulous. I don’t exactly know when, but that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I finish in December so maybe we can go for Christmas.”

“Will you be okay to go?” Cady asks.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just… I was doing research about chemotherapy and cancer stuff,” Cady confesses. Her confession turns Janis’ heart to warm, soft mush.

“And why did you do that?” she asks softly.

“Oh… no reason.” They shrug and pull their sleeves over their hands, their face taking on the kind of softness they reserve just for Janis. “Just thought it might come in handy.” Janis blows a little kiss to the camera. Cady catches it, but quickly turns serious. “And it said that the aftermath tends to be pretty rough.”

“Caddy…” She rolls over onto her side, her cheeks turning a pale pink. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Of course I know that.”

“But you don’t need to worry about me,” she tells her. “Once this is all over, I’m going to be completely fine.” Her voice catches a little and she swallows past the lump in her throat. “And once I’m good, you and me can jet off to the Netherlands for our romantic getaway.” A lightbulb goes off in her head. “Oh, maybe I can get them to do it on our anniversary. I mean I’ll be completely fine by then, but it would still be romantic.”

“That sounds awesome,” Cady chuckles. “A little Fault In Our Stars, but awesome.”

“Oh my gosh,” Janis realises before bursting into cackling. “How did I not get that?”

“Because you didn’t read every John Green last year book to prep yourself for real people school,” Cady tells her. “I did.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Anyways, this is me back for the week if you want to come over and give me a week’s worth of Cady cuddles-” As she talks, she makes the mistake of running her hand through her hair. And behind her head, she feels something come off in her hand.

And just like that, a tidal wave crashes in and washes away everything else, all the comfort she’d received from Cady, all that excitement and giddiness. Gone.

“Janis?” Cady asks, a frown creasing her face. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah, fine,” she says quickly. “Uh… I’m actually going to sign off now. I’m pretty tired and I need to get some stuff sorted out. I’ll text you tomorrow okay?”

“Sure.” Cady twirls her necklace around her finger. “Um, feel better soon, okay?”

“Yeah. I will. I’ll see you later, Caddy.”

If Cady was going to say anything else, she doesn’t get the chance. Janis hangs up the call and shoves her phone under her pillow, just in case. She presses her hand to her chest, her heart beating wildly against it.

“Oh God.”

She pushes herself up, only to find more of her hair sitting on her bed. There has to be more than what came off in the hospital, she thinks as she pushes herself into a kneeling position. Twice as much.

How much is left?

She pushes herself off the bed and half-stumbles, half-runs to the mirror. Thankfully, she still looks normal at the front, but not at the back. There’s a patch at the back and if she can see it, anyone can. Anyone meaning her parents. It’s small enough for her to be able to cover it by pulling her hair into a ponytail, but that won’t last forever.

She sinks down on the bed, her nails digging into the covers and her head spinning. She can’t stop this and she won’t be able to hide it for that much longer either. This is her new reality.

As insane as it sounds, she feels like she’s losing a part of herself. Not even in the way most people like her probably think. Her hair is a symbol of the battle she fought with Regina. The half-blonde shows that Regina didn’t win. That she did, that she came out of it as herself, not as a clone of Regina. She can still remember standing in her bathroom cutting most of her hair off. Still remember the thrill she felt when the first hints of black started making their appearance. To lose this feels like she’s losing that victory.

She lays down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, tears burning in her eyes until tiredness creeps in and she finally falls asleep.

******

Her parents pick up on her mood, even if they don’t know what it’s about, which is the very last thing she wants. She should be trying harder, but she doesn’t have much energy to play pretend. She loves her parents, but right now she wishes they would be assholes and not care about her.

“You feeling okay, Jan?” her mom asks as she comes up behind her.

“Just tired,” she mumbles. Maxie whimpers and rubs his head against her leg, demanding pets. She obliges, partly to make herself feel better. If her dog can’t fix her mood, this truly is the end of her. Her mom nods, not moving from where she stands and watching Janis pretend watch daytime TV.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want something?”

It was a low blow, Janis knew that the second she said it, sort of even before it, and her mom’s wounded face is the price she pays for it. For a split second, Janis thinks (slash hopes) that she’ll tell her off about her attitude, instead she just shrugs.

“No. Just making coffee, you want some?”

“I’m okay.” She pauses for a moment and looks up just as her mom is heading away. “Thanks, though.”

It’s not that she hasn’t thought about telling her parents. Logically, she knows that that’s the best thing she could do. They’re going to find out sooner or later and it’s better that they hear it from her than her just coming downstairs in a few days completely bald. Save their feelings, show them she cares and all that. She knows all that and she’s still keeping it from them. Pride, fear and stupidity is a lethal cocktail and she’s downed at least three since yesterday.

She guesses she dozed off because she blinks and it’s a completely new show. According to her phone, it’s half an hour later. The TV was put on mute at some point and her phone placed on the coffee table. She stretches her limbs out on the couch, her stomach growling, and she guesses it’s time to head to the kitchen and eat her first meal of the day.

“Oh, morning,” her dad teases. She throws him a peace sign and heads over to the cupboard.

“Do we have peanut butter left?” she asks. “I want a PG&J.”

“I got a new one, it’s in the front,” her mom says. “The jelly’s in there too.” She has to stretch to get it, even with her being taller than average. She almost doesn’t notice her mom approaching until it’s too late and all she can do is hope she tied her hair back enough to hide her little patch well enough. “Sweetie why don’t you let me do that?”

“Mom, I’m nearly 18,” she reminds her. She snorts, although it feels empty and more sarcastic than earnest. “I can do this myself.”

“I know,” she says gently. “I just don’t want you to… I’m making something for myself anyway, you just woke up.”

Janis in a deep breath. It’s well intentioned, of course, but it pisses her off.

“It’s okay Mom,” she says. “I’ve got this.” She screws open the peanut butter and spreads more than enough on one slice, just to make her point. Her grip on the knife turns her knuckles white.

“Really, sweetheart.” Her mom puts her hand on her shoulder and even though her touch is as gentle as can be, Janis bites back a scream. “You go sit down; I don’t want you stressing yourself.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake mom!” The knife clatters to the counter and she whips around to face her mother. “I’m not an invalid, I’m not a child, and I can make my own freaking sandwich!”

Her mom looks like she shot her. She may as well have. She backs away from Janis, her mouth opening and closing noiselessly, her eyes torn between anger and concern. When she looks to her dad for help, there’s nothing he can do.

“I’m sorry,” Janis says after what feels like forever. She wraps her arms around herself, her eyes meeting her mom’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Her tone implies it’s anything but. “It’s all right.”

Janis only shakes her head, her throat too tight to say anything. Her mom takes a careful step towards her, then another. She’s never been handled with this much care before. Not even in the aftermath of Regina, when she was at her lowest, did she feel this breakable.

“You make your sandwich, kid,” her mom says quietly, her hand on her shoulder. Janis flinches away from her touch, mindful of her hair. Her mom takes the hint and she watches as disappointment flickers across her face.

“Sorry,” she whispers again. Her voice is so quiet that it’s as though she didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t.

When she looks over at the sandwich on the counter, her once-empty stomach feels too full and a shiver runs down her back.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles.

She stumbles into her room and leans on the chair, not even having the energy to close the door fully. Her parents know to give her her space anyway. They’re good like that, always are, and look how she repaid them.

She doesn’t care about being an asshole in school, to the people who deserve it, but she crossed a line here. The worst part is that she can’t really apologise because her parents are giving her the special treatment. Regardless of whether or not she deserves it, she doesn’t want it.

She rakes her hand through her hair, the habit still in her body even if she should know better, and of course another clump of hair comes off in her hand. That’s the second time today, the first being what came off in her hairbrush this morning. She’s being pushed further away from normal with every minute.

She holds it in front of her and looks at it, looks at the black and blonde clump just sitting there. Lifeless. Dull. Curling at the edges and poking out from between her fingers.

And suddenly she’s not upset or self-pitying any more.

She’s pissed.

She’s pissed as hell.

She shoves the door closed and squeezes the hair in her hand. It’s this illness, and that freaking medicine that’s making her feel this way. Making her tired and angry all the time, why her parents are giving her free passes. Making her miss out on her senior year and now taking her hair away from her too. Taking every facet of her life until she’s left with dust, and all against her will. How dare it, she thinks. How dare this disease come in and wreck her life like this. Make her feel so helpless and fragile. Who gave it that right?

She squeezes the clump in her hand as hot tears roll her face and into her open mouth. Her breathing is ragged and uneven; she gasps and chokes on sobs, even more so when another clump falls out.

Then an idea starts to piece together in her mind. It sounds insane, until she realises she was going to have to do it sooner or later. And that it was recommended in one of the leaflets she was given near the beginning. It scares her, but at the same time, it gives her some sort of satisfaction. Like doing it lets her win in some way. She lets the idea of that satisfaction pull her down the hallway, one ear listening out for her parents, and slips into the bathroom. There she finds her dad’s electric razor sitting on a shelf and she slides it into her pocket.

She remembers when she was 12 and her dad found her in this bathroom after cutting most of her hair off. He hid his surprise well. He might not be able to do that this time.

She locks her bedroom door and closes the curtains as well. Victory or no, she wants this done in private. She positions her mirror on the desk, enough to get her entire head in.

She looks at herself for a long moment, razor in her hand. This is the last time she’ll look like this for a long, long time. Her cancer has been hidden from passing eyes until now. Now she’ll just have it written on her forehead in invisible ink. The sad, pitiful eyes and sympathetic sighs won’t just be from her parents or peers now, but from everyone who sees her.

But it’s either this or it falls out on its own. Her fate it, quite literally, in her own hands.

So she takes a deep breath, turns the razor on, and runs it through the middle of her head.

It’s not as easy as people make it look. And by people, she means people on TV and in movies. The razor gets stuck on more than one occasion and it takes two or three tries on some places to get it fully off. Not to mention her hair getting caught in her bra or falling down the front of her shirt. But she powers through it and keeps going until there’s nothing left of it.

There’s nothing left.

Her first thought is that as far as impulse decisions go; this one takes the cake.

Her second thought is “oh my fucking god I’m bald!”. She’s well and truly bald. The realisation slams into her and she stumbles forwards, barely managing to grab the chair to steady herself. She can’t even decide if she regrets it not, if that one victory she claimed in doing it herself was worth it, because all she is thinking is “I am fucking bald”. She doesn’t look like herself. She looks like a kid. Or a cancer patient.

Her next conversation with her friends will be all about this. And she’s almost certain she can’t handle that.

Unless….

Her second crazy idea of the day springs to mind. Granted, it’s not as drastic as shaving her whole head, but it’s still a jump. A big one. But it’ll give her back something she’s been missing for a while, power. Power to tell her own story, to make people look and see her, not cancer.

She opens her phone and gets up her camera, snapping selfies like it’s any other day. One with a peace sign up, one with her tongue sticking out, one laying in her bed, one in front of the mirror. She lines them all up on Instagram and opens the caption.

_‘Hello friends. Tis I, Janis Sarkisian. Yes, I got a haircut. A bit more than a haircut. You all probably know by now that I have cancer. And you probably understand that people with cancer lose their hair. Yep, that’s what happened here folks. Please feel free to look at these pictures as long as you like in order to get used to it. I mean it. It’ll save all the awkward staring irl. I’ll do the same.’_

Her thumbs dance over the keypad as she bites down on her lip, choosing words with just as much care as she would in her college essay. Maybe more.

_‘I’m still me. Just without hair. See you guys when I see you. Please restrict your comments to only talking about how good looking I am and how my girlfriend is lucky to have me. Thank you for your time.’_

She hits ‘post’ immediately, only to immediately regret it once she does. She drops down to the floor and holds her phone to her chest, back against the wall, left with no option but to wait for the next event to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


	11. Janis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things:  
> 1\. this is the longest chapter I've written for this story so far  
> 2\. I love janis sarkisian

As it turns out, the next thing that happens is Damian calling her. She answers immediately, holding her phone as close as she can and pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Janis?”

“Damian?”

“I-oh my God!” His voice is so high, so fast, that she can barely register anything he’s saying. Not that what he’s saying is anything coherent anyway. “You…. Oh my God, Janis! Your hair! Are you okay? What happened, when did this happen?”

“So,” she breathes, her fingers drumming on the floor. “I’m guessing you saw the photos?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I did. It was literally the first thing I saw when I opened Instagram.”

“Aw, we’re psychically connected,” she teases.

“Babe, you know I have my notifications on for you,” he replies. He falls silent and so does she, her fingers picking at the rug as seconds pass with neither one speaking. It’s new and scary territory, for her as well as him, which is why she’s almost okay. It’s more than enough just to have him here, even if it’s only on the other end of a phone.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a while.

“I… good question.” She lets out a long sigh, her head dropping against the wall. It hurts, probably more than it would have before. What constitutes ‘okay’ took on a new meaning a while ago and it’s always changing. Still, even with that, she knows what she’s feeling now. Like she’s stepped off a roller coaster, dizzy and uncertain, the ground beneath her feet shifting and her stomach tied up in knots. “No, I’m not okay. I’m really, really not okay. But you know how it is.”

He hums in response. He doesn’t know, not really, because he can’t, but one of Damian’s many attributes is empathy. It’s what makes him such a good actor but more importantly, such a good friend. Just like always, he knows what to say and what she needs.

“Do you… want me to come over?”

And despite the heaviness in her chest, she smiles.

“You would?”

“Of course I would. Do you… would you be okay with that?”

“Yeah. Yeah I would. I really, really would.” Her voice catches in her throat. “See you in a hot minute.”

“On my way, kiddo,” he says.

“Wait, Damian,” she says hurriedly. “Just… don’t tell your mom about this, okay?”

“Of course not,” he says, like he hadn’t even thought of it.

“Or my parents either.” She can see him stopping at that, confusion crossing his face followed by his trademark parental disapproval. Even sitting here, two blocks away from him, the image is enough to make her shift where she sits.

“You haven’t told them?”

“This was kind of an impulse decision,” she sighs. “I’ll tell them at some point.”

“Yeah you’d kind of have to.”

“Oh shut up,” she scoffs. “Just… tell them I asked you to hang out. And keep them out of my room, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’m leaving the house now. I’ll see you in ten, okay?”

She nods, coldness creeping back into her body and anxiety prickling in her stomach. She’s tempted to change her mind and cancel, the thought of him seeing her like this terrifying her to her core. But even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. He knows she needs him, and so he’d be here anyway.

“Thanks,” she tells him before hanging up.

She spends those ten minutes pressed against her bedroom wall with her eyes closed, her ears straining to hear her parents. They shuffle around in the kitchen, the TV turns on in the living room, they have conversations in low voices. Her heart picks up when she hears the stairs creek, and it sits in her throat when she hears footsteps outside her door. Her dad’s. He lingers outside her room and she cowers away from him, like he’s not her dad but the monster from her childhood nightmares. She presses her face to her knees to stop her mind from picturing him looking sadly at the door, hand extending to knock, unsure if he should.

He turns and goes back downstairs, and she feels terrible for being relieved.

Minutes later, her mom greets Damian at the front door, and he asks if he can see her, telling her that she invited him. Her mom is delighted with the news, probably just happy that she’s seeing people and not locking herself away.

He knocks her door, the touch careful and gentle and the only thing that could make her get up. Her limbs are stiff from sitting and cold from dread, and no amount of shaking fixes the latter. Her hand trembles as she opens the door and she barely remembers to slide the bolt back.

In the three seconds it takes for the door to open, she feels more fear than she’s ever felt in her life.

“Hey,” she croaks out.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice so soft that it makes her want to cry. He sounds like he’s about to cry and he hasn’t even seen the entirety yet.

He slips in through the narrow opening, slowly clicking the door shut behind him. Unable to look at his face, she keeps her eyes trained on his shirt; white with a cartoon Pikachu on it. She wants nothing more than to collapse into his chest and let him hold her until she feels alive again, but she keeps her distance.

“You… you really did it,” he finally says.

“It wasn’t an Instagram filter,” she mumbles. It’s an awful joke, if you can call it that, but he huffs out a laugh. She does to, only it turns into a sob and her face crumples.

“Oh, kid.”

He wraps her in his arms, his embrace feeling like an old blanket, one she’s had her whole life, and she leans into him, her tears rubbing off on his shoulder. While she’s always been smaller than him, she feels impossibly dwarfed now, like he could pick her up and carry her out of here. He probably could, what with the weight she’s at now.

His hand comes up and covers her head, rubbing against it where he would have patted her hair.

“Does it look bad?” she asks. She feels rather than sees him smile.

“Nah. You could never.” He pulls away, just enough to look at her, his hand still on her shoulder. She meets his eyes for the first time, and finds them conflicted, trying to be cheerful, but still laced with discomfort. She can’t blame him and squeezes his hand to show him that. It’s still a shock to her and she’s been living with it for 20 minutes longer than he has. “Janis… what happened?”

“I…” she sighs. She waves her hand in the air as though she was trying to physically pick events and put them in order. “I told you it was kind of an impulse decision, right?”

“Yeah,” he says. “But you know, there’s ‘buying twelve plushies on the Internet’ impulsive and then there’s…” He strokes her head again, his touch so, so careful.

“True,” she chuckles. She punches his arm, partly out of genuine affection and party to try to diffuse this awkward energy between them. Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “So… Guess I should start at the beginning?”

“The very beginning,” he says before a small, bright smile turns up on his face. “Apparently it’s a very good place to start.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Well…” She steps backwards, flops onto the bed and grabs a pillow, pulling it over her stomach and squeezing it hard. “In the hospital, yesterday. That’s when I noticed it. I couldn’t not notice. I brushed my hair and my hair came out with it. Not even a little bit, you know like it normally does. Like, a lot. And I freaked out.” Damian doesn’t say anything, but she can already see his eyes starting to water. “Stop me if this gets too uncomfortable, okay?”

He can only nod.

“So then I get home, and even more comes out. I’m just lying on my bed and more of it comes out.” Her grip on the pillow tightens. She’s pouring salt all over these fresh wounds and holy hell, it hurts. “And then this morning and then half an hour ago and then I…” She sighs, long and shuddering and reaches out for his hand. He takes it, of course and strength seeps slowly into her skin. “It was falling out. And I realised that I could either do it myself or let the chemo do it for me.” She traces patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m not going to be bossed around by some medicine.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, pride shining in his eyes. He pulls her into his embrace and she willingly follows, resting her head on his shoulder. Normally her hair would be falling down his back or tickling his nose. Now that won’t happen for a long, long time.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. She turns around and tucks her legs up beneath her, the tears running down her cheeks noiselessly. Her hands twist the pillow around and around, just like her chest is doing now; her throat winding tighter and tighter. “What have I done?”

“What you always do,” he tells her quietly. “Been brave.”

“I don’t feel brave.” She pushes herself up and paces the room, one hand on her lip and the other pressed against her mouth. Damian’s eyes follow her, confused and helpless. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

She shakes her head but manages to stop herself from telling him that he doesn’t. She slows to a halt in front of the full length mirror, her heart freezing in her chest. She doesn’t recognise herself. She looks so much smaller now. Weak, fragile. She wants to spit at herself and Damian sitting there is the only reason she doesn’t.

“It did seem like a good idea at the time,” she says, unsure who she’s directing that to. “It did.”

“And it was,” he insists. “It was the good idea out of two bad ones.” She picks at her nails, unable to even pretend to smile.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” she states. Damian hums in agreement and comes up behind her, arms around her waist. She grabs onto him, clinging to her most trusted lifeline. She blinks, and another realisation sets in, along with a fresh set of tears. “All people are going to see now is cancer,” she says glumly.

“But you’re a Scorpio,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

“Shut up,” she chuckles. “You know what I mean. I’m not a person anymore.” Her voice shakes and although she’s standing up with his arms around her, she feels as though she’s sinking into the floor. “I can’t hide it anymore.” For years she’s strove to stand out, but not like this. Now blending in is all she wants to do.

Damian doesn’t say anything, just holds her tighter, even though his own hands are shaking.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, untangling himself from her. She holds onto one of his hands and follows his eyes to her bed. At first, she thinks he’s looking at the carpet of hair across the bed. The sight is physically painful for her and she almost turns her head away before she sees what he was really after. He reaches over and picks up the razer, eyeing it with fascination.

“It’s my dad’s,” she explains. “I didn’t ask his permission, but I doubt he’ll be mad. That’d be real messed up.”

“Janis,” he says softly, looking over at her. There’s an idea sparking in his mind, and if it’s what Janis think it is, she’ll kill him. “What if I-”

“No,” she says sternly.

“You don’t even know what I’m suggesting,” he whines. “It could be anything.”

“If it involves that razor and your head I don’t want to hear it,” she tells him. “I mean it, Hubbard.” His face falls and he looks from the razor to her.

“What if you’re not the only one people are looking at though?” he asks. He turns it on, and the mechanical whirring makes her stomach do a turn. “You know?”

“Damian,” she sighs. Diplomacy is what’s needed here, and though that’s not really her strong suit, she’s willing to give it a shot now. She has to. “Look, you are the single greatest person and the best friend I could ever want, and-OH MY FUCKING GOD DAMIAN!”

She claps her hands to her mouth, her cheeks bulging behind them. Damian’s mouth has fallen into an ‘o’, his eyes wide and shocked. He looks like someone had just tazed him. That might have been better. But instead, there’s a bald strip running right through the middle of his head.

“Oh my God,” she says from behind her fingers. “Oh my God you just did that.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “It’s… it’s kind of a rush, really.”

“Damian… why the hell would you do that?” she asks. “Why?”

“Because,” he says firmly. He could put Mr Duvall to shame. “If this is happening to you, then it’s happening to me to.”

When tears prickle this time, they’re tears of gratitude. Gratitude to the universe for letting her exist at the same time as Damian and allowing him to be her best friend. She’ll never understand how she got so blessed to have him. But she couldn’t be more thankful for it.

“Are you serious?” she asks.

“Right now, I can’t not be,” he tells her, grinning. She smiles back and then using all the love she has in her, she launches herself into his arms, nearly topping the two of them over. “Woah there, still holding an active razor.”

“Sorry.” She lets him go and wipes the tears on her face. She gestures up to the strip on his head. “Want me to help you out here?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I am more experienced with this than you,” she reminds him.

She sits him down on her bed and kneels behind him. He had piled up all of her old hair and pushed it into the corner. She had tried to start on it, but even touching it was too much for her. Meanwhile, she dragged the mirror out in front to sit in front of them.

“You sure about this?” she asks him, waving the razor. “You know this is kind of permanent. Or long-lasting anyway.”

“Yeah,” he says. There’s far more confidence in his voice than she’d have. He squares his shoulders and nods at her in the mirror. “Do it. I trust you.”

“You may regret that,” she says, and he just laughs.

Despite her shaking hands, she does a fairly okay jobs, pouring all her concentration into guiding the razor across his head. She even battles past how sickened she is in doing it, fighting the urge to flinch. She holds his ears down and gets at the side and gently sweeps at the bottom. She’s doing a lot better than she thought she would. It’s not perfect, the two cuts at the nape of his neck are proof of that, but she’s weirdly proud of herself nonetheless.

“Okay,” she breathes. She leans back on her heels and switches the razor off, relieved when the sound is finally gone. “We’re done.” She holds her breath, one hand holding his tightly, preparing herself for any kind of reaction; regret, disgust, anxiety. She’s been through it all in the past half an hour.

“I look like my grandpa,” is what he says instead and Janis bursts into laughter. Real laughter, the kind that shakes her sides and is loud and obnoxious and makes her fall onto the bed. “No, I seriously do!”

“You are a grandpa,” she teases, pushing herself up on her elbows. She doesn’t know if she’d say he looks like a grandpa but he does look odd. It sort of unsettles her, which it shouldn’t given she’s the one who started this whole mess. But whatever discomfort it feels is nothing compared to how warmed her heart is, so she takes his hand and laces her fingers through it. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” he replies softly. But this is past friendship and they both know it.

“Guess this means the drama department will have to set aside some cash for a wig,” she teases. “Do you know when the list comes out?”

“Oh. That.” His eyes drop to the floor, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Damian?” she asks. “Damian, what happened? You… you didn’t get it did you?”

“Ensemble,” he replies. “And they said they might consider me for an understudy.”

“Seriously? Come on, that… no that’s not happening.” Nothing makes sense about it. Damian is easily the best performer in that drama club, and she’d watched his audition piece over Facetime ten times. The role was as good as his. “Is that drama department on crack?”

“Quite possibly,” he says. “They’ve always been on crack. But it’s okay. I’m okay with it.”

“Liar,” she tells him.

“Well I screwed the audition!” he says with a shrug. “So it was kind of my own fault.”

“You haven’t screwed up an audition in the entire time I’ve known you,” she reminds him. “What happ-”

She can’t finish her sentence. The guilt written across his face and the way he avoids her eyes are all the answer she needs. She doesn’t know if she should be angry at herself or crushed for him.

“Oh my God,” she sighs. “I’m so sorry, buddy.” Now it’s her turn to hug him from behind, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks. “It was my fault. My heart just wasn’t in it. Besides, I’m just happy I get to be in the show at all. There’s no small parts after all.” She keeps her mouth shut; the last thing she wants is to make this about her. But she can’t help feeling responsible. This is the last thing she wanted to do; drag other people down with her. There must have been something she could have done to stop this. Talked to him more, let him know she was okay, maybe managed to get out and go with him to the audition.

“Who got it then?” she asks quietly.

“Jason Carpenter,” he answers. “Junior.”

“Well we’ll just have to arrange for a little accident to befall our young friend, won’t we?” she asks.

“You’re a dangerous human,” he tells her with a grin. He reaches up and holds her arms. “Nothing could change that.”

They have a second of quiet before the doorknob turns, and panic jumps in immediately. They can only look at each other and then the door for a split second with identical wide eyes and open mouths before her mom walks in carrying a tray of snacks.

“Hey, I thought you guys might like some-”

The tray clatters to the floor. Coke spreads across the carpet and cookies bounce on the plate. Her mom is frozen, looking from Janis to Damian, taking in the bald heads and the pile of hair on her bed. For what may well be a century, they can all just sit in shell-shocked silence.

“We need a vacuum,” Janis says weakly.

“Oh my gosh,” her mom whispers from behind her hands.

“Mom.” She jumps up and runs over to her mom, taking her hands in hers and trying her best to smile. “It’s… I’m okay.”

“Oh, Janis,” she sighs. Her hand reaches out but freezes halfway to her head. “When did this start?”

“Yesterday,” she says shyly. “It started happening before we left the hospital and it kept falling out and then…. This just happened.” She takes in a breath, although it does nothing to calm her. “I just wanted it off.”

“Oh, baby,” she says. “Why didn’t you tell us it was falling out?”

“I just freaked out,” she confesses. She kicks the floor. “I got scared.” Her mom sighs and strokes her wet cheeks. Janis is confident that if they were alone, she’d have gotten a kiss on the forehead. But they weren’t and when her mom saw Damian, a whole new emotional outburst came through.

“Oh, Damian.” She almost shoves Janis aside and runs over to him, hugging him tightly like he was hers. “You did this for her?”

“Would you believe that this isn’t even the craziest thing I’ve ever done for her?” he says, any trace of sadness gone. Janis crosses her arms over her chest, a bemused grin on her face. “This was nothing.”

“Thank you,” her mom says, her voice cracking. She turns to Janis and points sternly at her. “You better keep him around. People like this don’t come around a lot.”

“I intend to,” she says.

Just then, the door opens even more, and her dad is on the other side. Much as she’s in favour of ripping off the band-aid, she wishes she could have waited a little longer on this one.

“So this is what all the commotion is about,” he says weakly. Janis only nods. He smiles, albeit it’s tiny, and looks over at her bed. “I assume you’re going to clean that up.”

“Dad,” she scoffs, just as her mom says “Alex!”.

“Kidding,” he says, holding his hands up. “Kidding. I’ll do it.” The joke fades from his face though and his hand is on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She really wishes people would stop asking her that.

“As okay as I can be,” she answers.

He pulls her into a tight hug, whispering _“c'est ma fille”_ in her ear. He only speaks French to her when it’s serious.

“I say for telling the rest of the family we just put my pictures into the group chat,” she says. “So they’re used by the time they see me.”

“We don’t even need to put in an explanation,” her dad adds. “Let them work it out for themselves.”

“We should ask if they notice any difference,” she goes on. “Test how delicate they are.”

“You two are terrible,” her mom sighs, her hand on Damian’s shoulder. Janis laughs and sits down on the bed, acutely aware of all the eyes on her. Her parents, because she just jumped off the cliff without telling them, and Damian, because this isn’t his house and they didn’t really make plans past him hugging her.

“Hey, I’m feeling pretty good, why don’t we go out?” she asks Damian, suddenly aware of how small her room is. “We could go to the park?”

“Um, sure,” he replies.

“Mom? Dad?” She looks from one parent to the other, her feet swinging just above the floor. “Can we?”

“Uh…” Her parents look at each other, one just as helpless as the other.

“Doctor Wiley says I should if I can,” she reminds them. “You know, keep up exercise and stuff.”

“Because you exercise so much?” Damian asks. Janis punches him for that comment.

“Well, if you think you’re up to it,” her dad says. “I don’t see why not. Just… you two might want to wear some hats.”

“Oh is there a breeze?” Janis replies, raising an eyebrow. “Thanks, guys.”

Janis fishes out two old beanies from her closet and Damian follows her downstairs. Maxie is down in the hallway, running up and down the hallway in the way he often does when he’s restless. He runs up to the cupboard under the stars and paws at the door and Janis realises he hasn’t been walked today.

Her feet hit the hallway floor and his little ears perk up, thinking someone’s come to save him from boredom. Suddenly she’s acutely aware of the lack of hair on her head, the hat still in her hand. She takes in a deep breath and creeps towards him, her steps cautious, far too cautious for where she is. In her house, with her dog.

She kneels down, and after the longest second of her life, Maxie runs up to her, butting his head against her legs and attempting to jump up on her knees.

“I look a little different right now, don’t I?” she whispers to him, a kiss pressed to his furry head. “It’s still me, don’t worry. It’s still me.”

She’s said before that validation from her dog feels better than from anyone else, but it’s never been truer than it is right now.

“What’s that crazy dog doing now?” her mom sighs. Heat rushes through Janis’ cheeks when she remembers she still has an audience.

“He’s just bored Mom,” she replies as she straightens up. “No-one’s walked him yet. We can do it now if you want.” She looks over at Damian, who stands in the corner and makes kissy faces at her dog. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Why would I ever mind?” he asks her before coming over and ruffling Maxie’s hair. “Why would I ever mind walking my favourite boy?”

So when they set off, it’s with hats on their heads, a leash in Janis’ hand and poop bags in Damian’s pocket. The air feels colder than usual, the extra sweater her mom insisted she take actually coming in handy, and the clouds are tinged with grey, promising rain later. Autumn is definitely making herself known now, bringing with it the excitement of Halloween and bonfires and the spooky witching season that she’s always loved..

 _That you won’t get to have this time_ a voice whispers in her head.

She pushes that thought away and focussed on what Damian’s saying. He’s filling her in on the North Shore gossip, although there doesn’t seem to be much. People broke up, people got back together, someone cheated on a test, some teachers are assholes. Two teachers allegedly hooked up, which does make her ask for more details. The musical is avoided altogether rather than being the main focus, and much as she tries to ignore it, the absence bothers her.

She wraps her arm around him and rests her cheek on his shoulder. They decide to go to the park to let Max roll around on some grass. Damian points out how his ears perk up when the word ‘park’ is mentioned.

“Hey, why don’t we call for Cady?” she suggests, seeing as they’re close to her house anyway. “I mean, only if you’re cool with it.”

“Of course I am.”

“Sweet,” she says. “She hasn’t seen Maxie since before school started. She probably misses the little pooch.”

“She also misses you,” Damian says. Janis shakes her head, tilting her head forwards only to remember her usual way of hiding her blush is gone.

“She does?” she says. “She can’t. I text her pretty much every day.”

“Yeah but that’s not face to face,” he points out. “She misses seeing you face to face.”

Her grin grows wider. “She said that about me?”

“You sound like you’re still in middle school,” he sighs. His voice then turns high, in what she guesses is meant to be an impression of Janis. “Oh, does Cady like me? Like does she like-like me?”

“Shut up,” she scoffs. “I’ll take poop duty off you if you keep that up.”

“Oh how will I possibly survive?” He rolls his eyes for good measure as they turn up Cady’s street, her house just a minute down the street.

And then Janis’ brain turns upside down, the gentle buzz replaced with heart-pounding dread, her blood turning cold. The butterflies she felt when she first suggested Cady turn to sand and pile up inside her. The familiar street turns sinister in the blink of an eye and she’s met with the urge to turn around and go anywhere else.

“Um, on second thought she’s probably busy,” she says. “She said something about Mathletes when I last talked to her, I’ll text her later-”

“Janis.” He takes her arm and turns her to face him, eyebrows raised and face set in a ‘no-nonsense’ expression. It’s no wonder her mom loves Damian so much; they’re practically the same person. “You can’t avoid Cady forever.”

“I’m not avoiding her,” she replies. She chews on her nail. “Just think she needs space.”

“Okay first off, hand away from your mouth,” he tells her, pulling it away. “And second, Cady isn’t the one you’re giving space to here.”

She sighs deeply, stuffing her hands in her pockets while Maxie amuses himself with a lamppost beside her. He’s right, even if she freaking hates it. She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she suggested getting Cady. Maybe she missed her, maybe she forgot she was freaking bald. Maybe, most likely, she wasn’t thinking past the next five minutes, to when Cady sees her, if she hasn’t seen her photos already, and she has to have the ‘oh hey I’m bald now because of the cancer that I have, please don’t run away from me because I really like being with you and I promise I’m still your girlfriend’ talk with her.

And no-one prepared her to have that talk.

“I’m nervous,” she confesses.

“Over Cady?” he echoes without mocking her. “Come on, she’s the human equivalent of a puppy. Would you be nervous around Maxie?”

“Yeah,” she answers and that sets him back. “I was nervous about Maxie. Times that by ten and you get how I feel now.” When she looks back over her shoulder, she can see the edges of the tree in the Herons’ front yard, the leaves turning gold. “I don’t want to freak her out,” she mumbles. “See this is the kind of thing I was trying to avoid-”

“By breaking up with her?” he finishes. “And how did that work out?”

“You’re being a real jerk right now,” she says. It’s half-hearted though. He’s not a jerk, just offering her some much-needed tough love.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If Cady has had a sudden and drastic personality change and freaks out, then I will personally-”

“Kick her in the face?”

“Give her a very extreme talking to,” he says instead. “And if she hasn’t then you have nothing to worry about and you two can go on being the impossibly cute couple that I am proud to call my friends. But… you never know unless you find out.” He holds his hand in front of him, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Deal?”

Janis looks back down the street. In amongst the anxiety and the fear, there’s a pull in her chest, a desperate desire to see her girlfriend again. Facetimes and texts can only do so much; her arms haven’t been around her since last week. That’s far too long for a person to go without a Cady cuddle.

“Fine,” she says, and Damian’s arm slings around her shoulders before they stroll up to the Herons’ house, Maxie scurrying along beside them.

“Are you going to ring the doorbell?” Damian asks her quietly once they’re on the step. “Or do you want me to do it?”

“I’ve got it,” she mumbles, pressing her finger to it. The sound makes her wince; it’s never been so sharp before.

He nods and rubs a comforting hand along her shoulders.

On the other side, they hear fast footsteps sprinting towards the door, an outline appearing in the window out of nowhere, and the door opens to reveal an out of breath Cady, her wide eyes focussed solely on Janis.

“Janis,” she breathes.

“Hey,” she replies, holding up a hand in an awkward half-wave. Her mouth runs dry, words deserting her.

“Oh my gosh!” Cady throws her body at her, their chests colliding, her arms around her shoulders, her head buried in the crook of her neck, her breath tickling her skin. Janis wraps her own arms around her, revelling in the feeling of Cady being back in her arms. The hug is desperate and a little afraid, like they’re clinging for survival. Like Cady is worried Janis might disappear if she doesn’t hold tight enough.

But even with all that, it’s still got all the markers of a Cady cuddle. Safe and warm and making her feel like she can take on anything.

“Oh my gosh,” she says again, her fingers scraping at the nape of her neck. When she pulls away, there’s a smile on her face, not matching the sadness in her eyes. “You look good.”

“You think so?” she echoes. She scratches the back of her neck. “You know I had been thinking of going bald for a while, but I wasn’t sure if it would work.”

“It works,” she tells her. “Believe me, it works.” Cady’s fingers curl into the front of Janis’ jacket, her sneakers touching the front of Janis’. Her next words are whispered, possibly mindful of Damian standing behind her, or her parents back in the house. “Are you okay?”

“God,” she sighs. “Can we make it a rule not to ever ask me that question again?”

“Sorry,” Cady says sheepishly, but the question doesn’t leave her eyes. Like everyone, she has good intentions; it’s not her fault Janis has grown tired of that question. Besides, maybe she’ll make exceptions for the two people she’s with now.

“I’m okay,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. “And me and Damian were going on a walk. You up for it?” She presses her finger into Cady’s cheek. “By the way, someone missed you.”

Adorable confusion clouds Cady’s features for a second, but it turns to glee when she notices Maxie jumping up on her, demanding to be picked up. He’s just as big a fan of her cuddles as Janis is.

The Herons are fine with it and Mrs Heron comes out to greet them, not even flinching at them, telling Janis she’s looking well and how she misses having her around. Janis misses the Herons’ house too; Mrs Heron’s cooking and the various photos from Kenya up on the walls and sitting in Cady’s room with their legs intertwined.

“Hopefully, I’ll get around soon,” she says as Cady comes through the door with her jacket on.

“Oh you take your time; we’ll still be here” Mrs Heron says. “Have a nice time, Binti.”

“Bye Mommy!” Cady calls.

They last five minutes before Janis hands Maxie’s leash to Cady, her face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. Even though she gives Maxie more leash length than he should be allowed, he stays by her side, looking up at her with those big, round eyes every now and again to play with her.

“My dog has no sense of loyalty,” Janis sighs. “I’m his sister, I feed him, I love him, I bathe him, and yet he loves Cady more than me.”

“It’s because Cady is part puppy,” Damian remarks. Cady’s mouth falls open at that remark, even more so when Janis splutters into laughter. Damian simply shrugs, shit eating grin lighting up his face. “It’s true and you know it, little slice.”

“If anything, I’m part lion,” she says, tossing her hair back.

“Oh yeah I can see it,” Janis jokes. “Real ferocious babe.”

“I’m ferocious,” she says. Her face is scrunched into the most adorable pout imaginable and Janis has to wonder if she’s doing it deliberately. “Aren’t I?”

“Completely terrifying,” she says, throwing her arm around her and kissing her temple. Damian mumbles something about Those Darned Gays and makes a fake gagging noise.

When they get to the park, Janis insists on buying both of them ice cream, even though the weather is hardly ideal. That little van stays up all year round, selling hot and cold treats, and ice cream just feels tight.

“Hey,” she greets, sliding up to the van’s window with Damian, Cady sitting with Maxie as he takes advantage of the free dog water. “Can I get three cones? One chocolate, one butterscotch, one bubblegum?”

“Oh,” is all the cashier says. She’s old, must be in her forties or fifties, and Janis has definitely been served by her before. The ‘oh’ was tiny and could be trivial, but Janis tenses at it. Even when she smiles and says, “coming right up”, she can’t shake it.

Yes, she guessed that her hair falling out would shock a few people. She just doesn’t like seeing it.

She hands her over the cones and Janis fishes a five dollar bill out of her pocket.

“Oh, no honey, this one’s on the house.”

She grits her teeth. Any other time she’d love to hear those words, but now this lady is going to take her money whether she wants it or not.

“No thanks,” she says, sliding the bill across the counter. “Here. Keep the change.”

“That’s okay, kid,” she says again. Her voice is careful and honestly, kind of condescending. “These are a treat.”

“Yeah, from me. I’m treating my friends,” she says. Damian shifts uncomfortably behind her and she takes in a breath. Minimal damage, that’s he goal. Besides, keep this up and she runs the risk of acting like a Karen, albeit in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” she tells the cashier. “But it’s okay. It’s just three dollars. Please, just take the money.”

Maybe this ‘vulnerable and weak’ look has some perks, much as she hates it, because she reluctantly takes it and hands her back the change.

Janis puts that in the tip jar and walks away with a smile.

“I have never seen someone so adamantly refuse free shit,” Damian says, handing her the bubble gum cone.

“Yeah well,” she shrugs. “Point of principle and all that.” He nods, a short hum escaping him.

“Do you think people will give me free shit now?” he asks. “You know, people who don’t know me?”

The very question is so ridiculous that Janis bursts out laughing just as they reach Cady.

“What happened?” she asks, looking from Janis to Damian and taking her butterscotch.

“Damian’s planning on using his completely selfless and kind act to exploit people and make them give him free shit,” Janis giggles.

“Shame on you, Damian Hubbard,” Cady scoffs. “How do you sleep at night?”

“On my bed of sins,” he replies, and Janis busts out laughing again.

“That sounds like a porno.”

“A Jesus related porno,” Damian adds.

“That’s an image permanently branded into my mind,” Cady says.

“The Bible but it’s kinky,” Janis adds and she watches Cady’s cheeks flame red. Not even her time in the plastics could make her comfortable with this kind of stuff, which does make for some fun interactions.

“Somewhere out in Florida my very Catholic grandmother is having chest pains,” Damian says. He nudges Janis’ arm. “By the way, Bertha says hello.”

“Oh we have to love Grandma Bertha,” Janis says.

Cady tracks down a good sized stick on the grass and after inspecting it for bugs or anything else, starts tossing it for Maxie. Thankfully there’s no other dogs or little kids around so they can let him off his leash and watch him go wild around the grass.

“I wonder if I’ll ever be as happy as your dog is when someone plays fetch with him,” Damian says.

“Not possible,” she replies with a shake of her head. “Dogs just have a level of happiness unattainable by us mere mortals.”

“Well that explains Cady.” Cady turns around and raises her eyebrow at him, dimple in her cheek as she smiles. Damian simply sticks his tongue back at her. Janis wraps her arm around Cady’s middle and rests her chin and her shoulder, swiftly pressing her lips to Cady’s jacket. She also sneaks a lick of Cady’s ice cream, which her girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind.

Maxie bounds up to Cady with the stick in his mouth, his little feet barely touching the grass as he comes. He deposits it at her feet, his tail wagging frantically and his fur streaked with mud.

“Okay Mr Max, you’re getting a bath when you go home,” Janis tells him. His ears droop at that and he whimpers, tilting his head to look up at her. It would melt anyone else’s heart, it certainly does for Cady, but she’s more experienced. “Mm, beg all you want little boy, it’s not changing a damn thing.”

Cady laughs and throws the stick again, Maxie forgetting his woes as he chases it back across the park. Cady leans her head against Janis’ shoulder, making warmth radiate through Janis’ body. It feels nice.

It would feel nicer if it weren’t so god damned tired.

She doesn’t know when it started, she’d been too good at ignoring it, but that’s fallen apart now. It’s not the dragging her down, unable to move kind of tired, just the heavy eyelids and the longing to sit down kind. It’s become more common these days and she’s never disliked it more than she does right now.

She has half a mind to run back down to the stall and get some coffee but dismisses the idea. It’s a combination of not wanting to worry Cady and Damian and not wanting to go back there.

So she tosses the stick for her dog and laughs at Damian’s jokes and blushes at the sight of Cady’s smile. She’ll make herself power through it.

“Oh, I have to get home,” Damian announces after a while, his phone in his hand. “Mom wants me back. Plus, I have to start an assignment for English.”

“Cool. I think we’ve given the pup enough exercise for one day,” Janis says. She taps her leg and whistles, calling Maxie back to her. He doesn’t falter as she puts the leash back on him; his feet tapping against the ground. She runs her hand through his fur and lets him lick her hand before she straightens up and they start the walk back down.

They’re barely away from the green before her chest starts getting tight. A simple one minute walk draining her almost completely. Her gut reaction is to panic, whether it’s over her friends’ reaction or her own safety she isn’t sure. She doesn’t struggle to breathe, but she struggles to retain it, her chest pitifully, painfully empty.

“Janis?” Cady asks her. Sharp, eagle-eyed Cady. Her arm had threaded through Janis’ and it tightens now. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says. It’s more of a mumble though. She tries to take in a deep breath and fails miserably, a metallic taste hangs around in her mouth.

She’s too tired to even keep her wall up, and so she admits that she needs to sit down for a moment. She lowers herself onto a park bench, Damian’s hand on her back, and buries her face in her hand.

“Is she okay?” a passer-by asks her, the voice so sweet it makes her feel sick.

“I’m fine,” she grumbles, not bothering to look up at them. That must not have deterred them, because Damian then says “she’s okay, really. Just out of breath”.

She isn’t sure how long they sit there. To be honest, she’s not counting. She can’t, not with the way her vision darkens and her thoughts lose track. All she can focus on is keeping her eyes open. She does vaguely think about how she’ll be paying for this with apology texts later tonight.

“Okay, you can’t walk home,” Cady says. “Not like this.”

“Yeah I can!” she replies, suddenly spurred into action, although she sounds a lot stronger than she feels. She grabs the bench and pushes herself up, her friends protesting on either side of her. Her body protests as well; her chest burns and her legs shake. She could tune her friends out, but she has no choice to listen to her body and falls back on the bench.

When she raises her head to look at the park gate, it seems so, so much further away than she thought. Her shoulders drop at the mere idea of trying to make it over there. Maybe she could, but making it to her house? Impossible.

Her heart breaks when she uses that word, but it is.

She sits still for a long time before Damian takes her silence as resignation and offers to call her dad for her. She leans her head on Cady’s shoulder as he makes the call, their fingers joined in her lap.

After he hangs up, Damian helps pull her to her feet and, after making sure she won’t pass out, lets her lean on him all the way to the park gate. Cady takes Maxie, who trots dutifully beside her, head high as if to ward off anyone who might pose a threat.

Her dad’s car pulls up within minutes, if even. The three slide into the back, Janis sitting in between them. She makes sure to avoid the mirror, not wanting to see either her reflection or her dad’s face.

Before they reach their house, they leave Damian home first.

“Are you okay?” he asks her as he unbuckles his seatbelt. She’s pretty sure she had a response, but it comes out a soft “mm-hm”. She looks at him, really looks, taking in the bald head again. He did that. He did that for her and hasn’t regretted it so far.

“Thank you,” she says. The words feel too weak for what he did. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, kid,” he tells her. “Now if you want to repay me, go home and take a nap.”

“Your mom may not let you hang out with me once she sees that,” she teases, pointing to his head. He laughs merrily and shakes his head at her.

“She’ll be fine. After all, she survived when made that dent in my wall. This is nothing.”

She hugs him tightly before he leaves, putting everything she can’t say into this. As they drive away, she finds herself unable to take her eyes off him and his house until it’s out of sight.

Cady doesn’t need to be asked to stay. She texts her parents quickly in the car and rests her hand on her leg for the rest of the car ride, her touch gentle. She holds her hand on the way into the house, her other wrapped around her arm, making sure she won’t fall/

Her mom greets Cady with a smile and Janis with a frown, asking if she’s okay and does she need anything and what happened. The two of them explain everything, Cady apologising again and again. Her mom insists she doesn’t need to and after one more check-over, they can finally go upstairs.

They don’t even get a bedroom door warning this time. Not that they’d need one.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she finally asks when they’re alone on her bed, her legs over Janis’ and her back against the wall. Janis lays down on the bed, toying with a throw pillow.

“I’m fine,” she sighs. “Just tired.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I hate that word.”

“What word? Tired?”

“It’s all I ever say now,” she explains. “I’m just tired all the freaking time and I’m sick of it.” The pillow is scrunched up in her fist, creases ruining the pattern. She pulls it against her chest and looks at her girlfriend. “Sorry, I’m being really self-pitying.”

“I think given the circumstances; you’re allowed to be.”

“But that’s the thing I don’t want to be.” She tosses the pillow off the bed. “I don’t want to complain anymore.”

“This coming from Janis Sarkisian, self-proclaimed Queen of Cynicism?” Cady jokes, only it doesn’t land. Cady understands and her face falls in an instant. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She folds her arms over her chest. She’s always felt Cady understands her perfectly, like the universe made their brains for each other, but now she feels so distanced from her that it physically pains her.

But then Cady takes her hand and to her surprise, the pain dulls.

“Hey,” she says. She can hear the smile in her voice and despite the mood she’s in, it’s infectious. “I know you hate this. I don’t blame you.” She lifts her hand and presses a kiss to it, and the pain dulls even more. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No, I know.” She threads her fingers through Janis’. “But it’s okay to not have good days right now. Don’t worry we’re all still completely terrified of you.”

“Thanks,” she chuckles. She takes in a deep breath, their joined hands resting on Janis’ stomach. Her thumb strokes the back of her hand thoughtfully. It’s just them in here, their space. And if she can’t say this to Cady it’ll probably stay hidden in her heart forever, and it’ll hurt in there. “I don’t like having bad days though. Especially not now.”

Her whole concept of good and bad has been changed lately; bad days are far worse now. The amount of shit she can handle-physically and mentally- has dropped dramatically.

“I want to be able to stay up past midnight. I want to go on walks with you and not feel like I’m going to pass out.” She half-buries her face in the covers. “I want to keep being myself. I don’t want that taken away.”

Cady lets out a breath. Without saying anything, she wriggles out of her position and lays down beside her, her eyes looking into Janis’, and Janis suddenly feels reminded that she isn’t alone. Her own face is just as sad as Janis’ is, but there’s a fire in her eyes that Janis wishes she could share.

“Listen to me,” she orders. “Nothing about you is being taken away right now. Nothing and no-one could ever do that to you. You have the biggest, boldest, strongest personality I’ve ever seen on anyone, ever!” Her words spark something in Janis, chasing away the coldness in her chest and letting her breathe. “Just because stuff’s a little hard right now doesn’t mean you’re not still you.” She reaches out and strokes her face. Janis tenses as her fingers come near her beanie, but she doesn’t stop her either. “You are still funny and brave and kind and goofy. You have been every day since August.” When she pauses, Janis kisses the inside of her wrist. “And it’s okay if you can’t be that way all the time. Because you’re still herself. No-one could ever take you away.”

When Cady finishes, Janis is speechless. She sits there, panting, breathless from the overwhelming affection Cady has just shown her. She has no idea what to say, not after that gorgeous speech. Words aren’t her forte, but even if they were, she could never give Cady what Cady just gave her.

“And,” she goes one. “I have a proposal. For every bad day you have, I can give you one good moment to balance it out.”

That at least makes her find something to say.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah I do,” she insists. “And in return, you have to promise to take care of yourself, okay? No pushing yourself beyond your limit. No pushing yourself too far. No refusing to accept help okay?” She sees worry creep into her eyes and for the first time, appreciates how scary what happened in the park was for them. “Deal?”

“I think that’s a fair deal,” she whispers. Her touch careful, she strokes Cady’s hair before twirling a lock around her finger. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Cady doesn’t answer. Not in the traditional way. Instead she moves over and kisses her, slow and careful and kind, everything that makes her heart skip a beat. Cady’s hand cups the back of her shaved head and Janis doesn’t try to move it away. She might be braver now or she might just be lost in her girlfriend’s lips and the overwhelming calmness it brings her.

“What was that?” she asks as she pulls away.

“The first good moment,” Cady says, eyes shining.

Janis laughs, and kisses her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make a happy writer and a happy writer makes fics and fics make a happy fandom :)
> 
> stay safe x
> 
> and if you have time, here's a great list of ways to help out yemen  
> https://yemencrisis.carrd.co/


	12. Cady+Janis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the first of not too many dual POVs. So a solid black line indicates a POV change. I'll try to keep these to a minimum though :)

Cady waits until she’s on the bus home before she lets the smile drop from her face. Her cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much, and they’re not the only thing that hurt.

She wants to not have a problem with this. More than anything. She wants to pretend that she can’t see any difference, or that she’s not affected by this. But she is, and she feels terrible for it. That’s why she spent so much time preparing herself for it. While Janis spent her first night in hospital, she was spending hours researching, calculating the possibility of her hair falling out and coming to the conclusion that the odds were stalked against her. That was the first time she had truly hated math. But Janis’ hair was going to fall out, and so Cady had tried to prepare for it as much as she could; telling herself over and over again that Janis’ looks don’t matter, trying not to spend too long looking at her head. She had even started searching up pictures of cancer patients and looking at them. Not in a creepy way, or at least she had hoped it wasn’t creepy, just to prepare herself for the inevitable.

But as it turns out, nothing could have prepared her for seeing Janis without her hair. The hair she loved running her fingers through and braiding and playing with. The hair that was one of the first things she had noticed about her; a dual-coloured lion’s mane.

She wishes that the first thing she had thought when she saw those photos was ‘I hope Janis is okay’. That she had first thought about her, rather than her own feelings. Rather than what actually happened; her phone almost falling from her hands, her struggling to catch her breath. She wishes and wishes she were perfectly fine with this, and that she and Janis were going on like nothing was happening.

She’s not, and she must be the worst person in the world.

“Hi, Binti,” her mom greets as she steps into the kitchen, her cheeks still cold from outside. She’s at the counter, pan on the stove and veggies being chopped. Or they were. They’ve taken a backseat as her mom looks at her, all wide eyes and downturned mouth. “How’s Janis?”

“She’s fine,” she replies. She pulls her jacket tighter around her as a lump forms in her throat. “You know. Fine as she can be.” The image of Janis crumpling in on herself in the park flashes through her mind and she tenses. As does the image of her poor, hairless head. “She’s okay.”

“Oh, that poor girl,” her mom sighs. Cady nods, her lips tightly closed and her arms crossed over her chest, fingers digging into her jacket. Her mom leaves the dinner aside and approaches her, placing her own hands on her shoulders. Are you okay?”

“Me?” she echoes. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because this is difficult for you,” her mom goes on. _You can say that again_ , she thinks. “And I just think you should be able to talk to us.”

Cady winces at that. She knows her mom is probably thinking about last year; when she kept everything from her, lied to them, became something she wasn’t. If she wasn’t feeling shitty about herself before, she sure as hell is now.

“Well, I’m fine,” she says. “You know, given the circumstances.” She swallows thickly. “I miss her. I miss having her in school and stuff.”

“Oh, I know baby.” Her mom folds her in a tight hug, letting Cady rest her chin on her shoulder. There, in that brief moment of privacy, Cady can feel as much as she needs to. It’s a rush, but it’s a relieving one. “I know how much she means to you. I know it kills you not seeing her.”

Kills her not seeing her. Also kills her seeing her. But she’s not getting into that now. She can’t. The former hurts far more than the latter does, though.

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” Cady asks, blinking her tears away before they get serious. Her mom eyes her, knowing she’s holding something back, but she doesn’t press her.

“Oh, I got this lamb curry recipe from a magazine,” she explains. “Thought I’d give it a shot. Here, tell me what you think…”

She hands Cady a spoon and lets her taste it.

“Oh that’s good, Mom,” she says. “Need any help?”

“Oh, that’d be lovely sweetheart,” her mom chirps. “Well, we’re nearly done, but if you could keep an eye on that rice-”

As they finish up dinner and start serving it out, Cady diverts the subject to work, listening attentively to her mom talking about her latest lecture series, telling her all about the different species of fish in Kenya, reminding her of those times they spent near rivers cataloguing them when she was small. It’s a subject that Cady is genuinely fascinated by; anything involving animals or Kenya is. While most teenagers probably couldn’t care less about the work their parents do, hearing her mom’s stories about teaching at Northwestern or her dad’s latest research excites Cady in a way few other things can. So she gives them her full attention and refuses to let her mind go anywhere else.

She runs up to her room after dinner, hoping she can pick up where she left off. When Janis and Damian showed up, they had actually interrupted her homework. She made an exception for them, obviously, but now it’s back to the grind. She’s done her research on her dream schools and she dares say she could rival her father in that regard, and the grades they’re demanding are tough. Really tough, even with her AP classes. She’s kept on top of everything so far this year, never dipping below a 90 in calculus, but she’s only a month in.

And it’s not just grades that colleges are concerning themselves with. They’re all eager for extra curriculars. At least the Mathletes provide a good basis for that-

“Oh, crap,” she mutters. She opens a drawer and pulls out her Mathlete folder, looking through the schedule she had made for it. She sighs when she sees she’s more or less on top of that too, although she makes a note in her planner to make a start on training the freshman teams for their competition in November.

“Okay,” she says. She pulls her hair into a ponytail and leans back in her chair. She has it all under control, really. Between Mathletes and tutoring, she’s taken on as much as she can right now. She has thought of volunteering behind the scenes in the musical, partly to hang out with Damian, but also because they must need the extra hands, what with Janis being unavailable.

She suddenly sits forward again, hunched over her work. Her cold fingers pick at her nails, tearing pieces off and letting them drop on the carpet. She squirms in the chair, suddenly too restless to sit still. The numbers on the pages and lines in her notes become meaningless to her, her mind overrun with Janis and Janis and cancer and Janis and her hair and Janis.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes tight.

“We’re not doing that,” she whispers.

She shakes her head and pulls her textbook towards her, her breathing getting slower and deeper, her go to tactic to straighten her mind out. She makes a start on the chapter, her eyes going back to the beginning again and again until she can focus properly, pushing her worries to the corner of her mind. Janis always says her art calms her worries, helps her forget the world, and Damian says the same for theatre.

People can say what they like, but math has always been Cady’s art.

* * *

Going back to the hospital is always going to be tough and Janis has resigned herself to that. Her weeks at home are still far from perfect, but if she’s going to be half-comatose, she can at least do it in her bed with her dog. At least she doesn’t have to wait until the end of the week for her friends to come around. Every time she goes back to the hospital, she’s reminded that this isn’t over, even if another two weeks are behind her. She gets to spend another two weeks with an IV in her arm and watching the people she loves through a phone screen. No matter how nice the staff try to make her stay it’s a reminder of what’s still happening to her.

So yeah, going back to the hospital is hard. But this week, with this recent development, it’s even harder.

She lets her mom hold her bag as they ride up in the elevator, Janis staring straight ahead of her and hoping for it to suddenly break. She used to be terrified of that happening, but this is a new reality and the swiftness with which it moves only makes her more nervous.

It’s not that she’s worried about anyone judging her. Hell, most of the people here would be in a position to do that and the others would be going against their jobs if they did. It’s not ridicule she’s worried about; it’s the opposite. All that unconditional, unwavering, inescapable love and support. She’s never been good with emotions, her style of communication isn’t suited to everyone, and that’s doubled when it comes to hospital stuff. People fawning all over her, asking if she’s okay, wanting every detail of her life. It’s almost even worse than ridicule. At least if they were being intentional assholes she’d have an actual valid reason to dislike it. But no, this is nothing more than her being stupidly awkward about everything.

“You okay?” her mom asks when the elevator comes to a stop. Maybe her wish is coming true, or not, since the floor number is sitting in bright red letters on the wall. Janis nods and releases her teeth’s hold on her cheek.

“Fine,” she says. Her mom nods, disbelief written over her face, and presses the button to open the doors. She steps out and Janis takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and follows her.

The lobby isn’t any more or less busy than it was last time. There’s more staff than patients; doctors and nurses running around in white coats and uniforms carrying forms or pushing carts around, the secretary sipping coffee and typing at twice the average human speed. The rising sun gleams through the open windows on the far side, turning the grey floors dull gold. Just like normal.

Janis pulls her beanie down further over her head and turns in the direction of her room, ready to run practically, when-

“Ah, Janis.”

Fuck.

Doctor Wiley approaches her and her mom, his pace quick and purposeful. His arms even swing in time with his steps, like he’s been choreographed. He comes over and shakes her mom’s hand, the exchange awkward with the two bags she’s holding, and hers as well. There’s a smile on his face but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, nor does it hold its usual irrepressible cheer.

“I thought you two would be arriving around now.”

“How’d you even recognise me?” she asks. “I got a bit of a haircut.” It’s kind of a mean question, but her filter doesn’t work at this hour and she could use a little enjoyment. He laughs at it though, so it can’t be too bad.

“Funny. But those boots are indistinguishable,” he tells her. She huffs a laugh at that but it’s gone in an instant and they fall into a tight, uncomfortable silence. Janis stuffs her hands in her pockets and shifts from one foot to the other, looking over at her mom in the childish belief that she’ll know what to do. She’s just as helpless as Janis is, Dr Wiley having trapped them both without intending to. She hears doors opening down the hall and sneaks a look up at the clock. Patients are waking up around now, meaning the amount of people in this lobby is going to double. She has half a mind to directly ask what he wants before he opens his mouth, saving them both an awkward exchange.

“Why don’t we talk in Janis’ room?” he asks. “Just want to see how your week’s gone.”

So they go down, and Janis takes a seat on her bed and lets her mom drop her bag down below her feet. Her stomach twists uneasily throughout it all and a nervous sweat makes its way down her back as the doctor finally enters and, as usual, shuts the door behind him.

“So,” he begins.

“My hair’s gone,” she says. The words escape her mouth before she can stop herself and her surprise at herself is the same as her mom’s. She only shrugs at her and swings her feet in the air. Pretending to be casual seems easier than trying to be serious. “That’s the biggest development.”

“Yes,” Wiley says thinly. He straightens up, his eyes avoiding Janis, and for the first time she’s struck with the idea that this is probably no picnic for him too, no matter how many people he’s had to do this for. “How did that happen? Did you shave it yourself?”

“Yes, she did,” her mom answers. She takes her hand and rubs her thumb across the back of it. Janis squeezes it back, giving her a smile.

“Did you help her with it?”

“No.” There’s a hint of laughter in her mom’s voice. Not mocking though. She almost sounds proud. Proud of her? For what? “When I say herself, I mean she did it herself. Alex and I got a bit of a surprise.”

“As did our dog,” Janis adds. “He’s used to being the only one shedding in the house.”

“I’m sure you all did,” Wiley says. He pulls over one of the chairs and sits close to her, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “You probably don’t need me to tell you this, but this is one of the most difficult parts of this process for so many people.” She nods stiffly. “And you probably also know, there are several support systems in place.” She nods again; she could probably recite those support systems from memory. “It may be good to talk about this with people who understand what it’s like.”

“Like other patients?” she asks. She remembers one thing she was told about: a group therapy session with the other kids on the ward. She had struggled to completely dismiss it already and now, after a week of staring at her bald head in the mirror, she worries she might be cracking.

“Maybe. Or some one-on-one counselling,” Wiley explains. “You’ll have met the people to talk to about that. I’m just strictly here for the medical side of things.”

“Typical medical school student,” Janis responds flatly. “Cold and emotionless robot.”

“That’s me,” he replies. “So, how was this week, physically? Any nausea, aches, pains?”

“Um, something like that,” Janis says. “Just you know, felt sick. Uh, I couldn’t eat much some days. Legs hurt. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Well,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “That’s all fine and normal.”

Janis hums. She’s at a point where feeling sick is normal. Great.

They finish up soon, going over her week and Wiley telling her that he’ll schedule another appointment for her to check up on her weight and her other vitals. She tries not to tense at that. It’s not like her weight is an insecurity of hers, but she’s not thrilled at the idea of weighing herself either.

“Hey, Jan, I’m just going to go have a quick word with Doctor Wiley,” her mom says suddenly, just as he’s opening the door. “You know, adult stuff.”

“Mom, you know where my mind goes when you say, ‘adult stuff’,” she replies.

“You going to be okay here on your own?” she asks, like Janis hadn’t said anything. At her side, Janis’ hand curls into a fist. She’d bet all the money she has that she’s going to tell Doctor Wiley about her little fainting spell in the park. If she had it her way, she’d tell her not to, insist it wasn’t that bad like she did that night. But she can’t have it her way and if it’ll give her mom some peace of mind, fine. Besides, maybe telling her doctor isn’t the worst plan in the world.

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” she says with a resigned sigh. “I’m going to go hang out in the longue anyway.”

“Okay, kid. I’ll meet you back here.”

She’s barely down the hall when she regrets her decision. Her hands stuffed in her pockets, she turns and looks back at the door, tightly shit, a solid barrier shutting her away from the conversation that is about her. She won’t press it, but she’s annoyed by it. Being whispered about behind your back is never fun, no matter what the subject matter is.

But there’s nothing she can do about it now unless she wants to make a scene, and she can’t hover in the corridor forever, so she turns and marches down the hall, keeping her eyes on the ground and only looking up to smile at nurses. A couple of the one’s she’s familiar with pass her and they kindly avoid the subject of her hair loss, instead cheerily bidding her good morning.

The longue is actually empty when she gets in. The hands on the clock aren’t even at eight yet, so she guesses everyone else is still asleep, or in early morning treatments.

She crosses over to the so-called ‘art shelf’, wrestles out a drawing pad and picks up a Halloween bucket full of pencils. They’re not as good as her own tools, but they’re all safe in her bag in her room, so she’ll make do rather than interrupt. She settles herself in the chair, her feet dangling over the edge and the paper resting on her legs.

It’s actually pretty calming in here alone. Not like it’s overly chaotic normally, it’s always kind of mellow, but it’s quite easy for her to lose herself now. The weak autumn sun is higher now, the leaves on a tree outside creating patterns on the carpets and the voices behind her are a peaceful, quiet kind of backing track for her to draw against. Her pencil moves gracefully across the page and forms the shapes she sees in her mind. She’s had this idea for a few days but never really had the motivation to draw it. It must have been longer than she thought, going without drawing properly. The pencil feels weak and she has to take a moment to give her hand a little shake out at points to get herself back. But she’s missed this, missed the freedom that art gives her. Freedom to create, to escape to her own worlds. Every time, even when everyone and everything failed her, she’s had her art to fall back on.

She’s more emotional than she should be as she sees it hasn’t failed her yet.

Even with the imperfect pencils, she carries on, going over the line she’s created. The outline of her IV is covered in black, the lines thicker than she’d wanted initially with the blunt pencil. Ideally, she’d go over them in fine pen, but the thick lines actually kind of work. Ivy wraps around the pole, coloured in a deep green with little red thorns jagging out from it and piercing the medicine bag. The details are smudged and undefined, these pencils weren’t made for this, but the fully formed drawing is taking shape in front of her and that’s what matters to her.

Besides, she can perfect it later.

She’s not aware of how much time has gone by until she hears footsteps behind her, followed by a familiar squeak. Maddie is hovering in the doorway, a nurse behind her holding her IV, and the clock showing that well over half an hour has passed with her drawing.

“Hey kid,” she greets, pushing herself up and tucking her legs beneath her, more for the nurse’s benefit than Maddie’s.

“Janis! You’re back!” she states as she runs over and plops herself down in the armchair beside her. Her eyes move up to Janis’ head, a question dancing in them but her lips staying silent.

“Hi sweetheart,” her nurse asks. Janis hasn’t seen her around before, or if she has she’s not been around much. Maybe a student, she guesses, going by how young she is and how intensely she’s focussed on the IV. “This your friend, Maddie?”

“Yup,” she answers. “Is it cool if I do my drip in here? And if I turn on the TV?”

“Go ahead, kid,” she says, flipping over the page. Maddie leans over the arm of her chair with wide eyes and Janis chuckles warmly before turning the page around for her. “What do we think?”

“Woah,” she breathes. “That’s so good!”

“Any critiques? Bad colouring? Bad use of space? Awkward shading?”

“Nope, nope and nope,” Maddie insists. “It’s perfect. Look, Maia, isn’t it?”

“Oh hey,” Maia adds, looking at it for a split second before re-focussing. “That’s cool. So you’re an artist.”

“I dabble,” she sighs, twirling the pencil between her fingers and turning the page over.

“So I take it you’re doing that photo project that Maddie’s doing?” she asks.

There it is again. Out of everything she’s heard about in here, that’s the one that’s come up the most and it’s the one that’s stood in her mind the most. Maybe because, well, it is kind of up her street. And since it is… well, why not?

“Yeah, I am,” she says. It feels odd, committing to something like this. But hey, it could be fun.

“It’s meant to be really good,” Maia goes on as she pulls out an IV. “You two probably know all about it, but it’s some fancy art college that’s providing the materials for it. And a professor from there’s overseeing it.”

Janis averts her eyes when Maddie rolls up her sleeves, though she can’t ignore the other girl’s small grunt as the needle goes in. There’s already a little bruise on her own arm. And Maddie’s been here two, three times as long as she has.

“Okay, that’s you set up for an hour and a half,” Maia announces. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check up on you, okay? And here’s your juice and your breakfast.”

“Thanks. See you later, Maia,” Maddie says, her voice the same as it would be if she was leaving to go to school. Maia pats Maddie’s head and tells Janis how nice it was to meet her before heading off, Maddie’s eyes following her in a way Janis knows all too well. Poor girl.

“What?” she asks when she hears Janis’ chuckle.

“Oh, nothing,” she sings. “You just seem awfully fond of Maia.” The way her little cheeks flame pink tell her all she needs to know. Nothing will come of this, of course, it’s a puppy infatuation, but that doesn’t make it any less cute. Janis remembers her first crush of that sort. Remembers how she, just as Maddie is now, vehemently denied it to anyone who asked. “Don’t worry kid. I won’t tell.”

“Okay,” she says quietly as she flicks on the TV. She looks down at the remote and lets out a pained sigh. “She’s just so pretty.”

“I know kid,” Janis replies. “I know the struggle.” They sit in companionable silence, Maddie focussing on the daytime TV and Janis doodling whatever comes to mind across the page, dragons, mermaids, flowers, puppies. It’s random nonsense, but it’s the artistic equivalent of going on a jog, she supposes.

As she draws, she keeps sneaking glances over at Maddie. A lot of things struck her when they first met, and one she’s sad to say was the lack of hair. Not that there’s nothing beyond that, but she noticed it first and it stuck. And despite all her wishes and hopes, it happened to her too.

“Hey, Maddie?” Her throat feels like sandpaper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

She clenches the pencil so tightly in her hand that her knuckles turn white.

“When did you lose your hair?”

“Oh.” Janis winces immediately.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s okay,” she says. She turns around to face her, her fingers fidgeting in front of her and her eyes looking at her only to look away immediately. “It was a month ago. Kind of. It started coming out pretty early.”

“In clumps, right?” she asks.

“Yeah. Big, scary clumps. I thought they looked like spiders.” Janis chuckles out of courtesy, but there’s no humour in it. “I wouldn’t shave it though. Everyone told me I had to but… I just couldn’t, you know.” She hears her swallow before she adds “I was too scared.”

Janis nods. She tries to picture it, this little kid scared shitless being told to shave her head. With nothing and no-one to save her. She doesn’t want to cry, knowing how she’d feel if she were in that position, but it gets her. She wishes she could wrap that girl in a hug and tell her she was okay.

“I gave in eventually,” she says. “So much of it was gone anyway. At that point I just wanted it over with.”

“That’s how I felt,” Janis adds. “Like… it was either it or me.”

“Did your mom or dad help you?” Maddie asks.

“No. I didn’t really tell them I was doing it.” She shrugs. “I didn’t plan it. Just sort of happened, I guess.”

“Woah.” Maddie’s hand rubs the back of her neck, a sorrowful expression on her face. “It feels weird doesn’t it?”

“Weird is an understatement,” Janis mumbles. As they sit in companionable silence, Janis doesn’t take her eyes off Maddie. Soon she gets up and pushes her chair closer until it’s touching hers. She brightens at that and curls up even more.

“People keep asking me if I miss my hair,” she tells her after a while. “I don’t answer them. It’s a stupid question.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s more to it. Far more than she should be. “Of course I do.”

“Yeah. I paid 50 for that dye job,” Janis says.

“I can’t wait to look normal again,” Maddie says.

Janis starts at that. It’s a horrible thing to have to say, or for someone to think, but the worst part is she can’t disagree with it. She doesn’t know if she’ll feel completely okay until her hair starts growing back. Her first impulse is to say, “me too”. Or the less tactful “mood”. But she pushes it away because that’s not what Maddie needs to hear. While she’s a disaster, she’s not bringing this girl down with her.

So what does she do? She can’t fall back on her own tricks. That may well only make it worse. So she does the only thing she can, ask herself ‘What Would Damian Do In This Scenario’. He’d make her feel better without sugar coating the reality. So she’ll do that. Be Damian for Maddie.

“Well… that may be true,” she begins. “And it royally sucks ass.” She’s not good at this. “But… just think of how happy we’ll be when that finally happens.” Really, really not good at this. God how does he do this all the time? Especially with her.

It quickly occurs to her that this little trick is so much easier when she’s trying to pick herself up. Picking other people up is harder. It’s mainly why she rarely does it. It also occurs to her that she doesn’t know what Damian would say if he were her. Thank God, he’s never been through _this_. So she can’t know what he’d say. All she can do is reach inside herself and try to pull out something to help the both of them.

“And you know, at least we’re all normal in here.”

She sees realisation dawn on Maddie’s face and lets out a breath.

“I guess there is no normal in here,” Maddie adds, but it’s without the defeated tone. The opposite in fact. She the smile on her face is relieved and most importantly, real. Janis is relieved as well, and the feeling floods her chest, but there’s something else in there, something kind of unfamiliar and pretty exciting.

Maybe she’s actually quite good at this.

******

Days later, Janis is lounging in her bed, half-waking up from a spontaneous nap. She props her head up on her elbow and scrolls through Twitter, Purrlock sitting on her shoulder. She told her mom that she just woke up like that and she’s too comfortable to move him. And maybe because he wanted a good view of her phone.

She avoids Instagram like it’s the plague. Her hairless selfie is by far the most popular photo on her page, which annoys her in more ways than one. She didn’t even put hashtags on it, and yet it’s gotten more likes and comments than artwork that she put hours of work into. And selfies where she actually looks good. She has half a mind to respond to the supportive-pitying comments saying “thanks, check out my art and tell your friends I will be available for commission soon”. She only hasn’t because she can’t help but feel like using her cancer for clout is low even by her standards.

Regina is amongst those who left a comment. According to her she ‘looks like a boss’, and Janis has since spent hours of her time looking for the catch. There always is one with her but she’s now hidden it extremely well. Janis is determined to find it, like a pirate looking for a weird kind of treasure. People can call her paranoid all they want, but she knows better. She knows Regina better than probably anyone at that whole school.

Those are just some of the reasons she avoids Instagram, as well as Facebook. At least on Tumblr, the vast majority of her followers have no idea who she is. To them she’s just an art blog, and that’s why she can’t find it in her to delete that app. Plus, there’s something about the humour that’s comforting.

She’s halfway reading one of those tag yourself games when she gets a text. She wants to dismiss it, too tired for any kind if interaction, but the name on it makes her do a double take.

_“Hi! How are you doing? Would it be okay if I came over some time? I haven’t really seen you in forever. I’d really like to. Just let me know if you want to and when you can-Gretchen.”_

Gretchen. Gretchen Weiners. First Karen popping in to visit and now Gretchen? She’s collected two out of three Plastics. And hell, given that Regina popped round to her house a while back, she’s kind of gotten them all.

Gretchen is a complicated case for her. She sits right in between Karen and Regina in the Plastics for her. She’s not stupid like Karen. She had to know that what Regina was doing to her was wrong. But while she had the brains to know it, she didn’t have the backbone and Janis can’t not understand with that. But she can’t just forgive and forget either, not completely. And while they have found themselves actually getting along pretty well since Spring Fling, some days Janis can’t shake the feeling that it’s entirely contingent on Regina. That if Regina turns, Gretchen is right there with her. Besides, she always saw their friendship as more surface level than anything else. It was fine by her; they just wouldn’t have any spark together without a third party there.

So Gretchen texting her like this is unexpected to say the least. Especially offering to come over. Alone, it would seem.

Her mind is going through every possible bad outcome, meanwhile her fingers are typing out a response that reads _‘Hey. I’m not exactly going anywhere but Cady and Damian come over on Fridays, so that might be out. I’m also pretty out of it on Monday. But hey any other day you want to come over, that’s cool.’_

She has the self-control to pause and read it over again she sends it. As far as she can tell there’s nothing completely wrong with it. Heck she even went out of her way to warn her about when her worst day is. Although as she reads it a third time, that sentence suddenly seems way too open for Gretchen, so she quickly changes it to _‘pretty busy’_.

She presses send that time and watches as her message becomes a small blue bubble. So she just committed to hanging out with Gretchen Weiners. In her hospital room. Gretchen responds asking about Saturday, and while she considers backing out, she agrees. Gretchen responds with some heart emojis and that she can’t wait to see her. It’s a sweet message and it makes Janis’ stomach turn.

“What the heck have I done?” she asks out loud.

*****

She mentions it to Cady and Damian when they come around on Friday. She has to since it’s pretty much the only piece of news she has other than “they got new vending machines”. They both think it’s a great idea, which does make Janis feel better about the whole thing. Especially Cady. The way her whole face lights up when she tells her actually makes it feel worth it, whatever the outcome is. 

That’s what she tells herself on Saturday morning when she gets up. She wriggles out of bed and checks the clock on her phone. Half an hour before her first round is due. She doesn’t feel like breakfast, nor does she feel like getting out of her pyjamas. She guesses Gretchen will understand that much anyway. Even she can’t expect Janis to look perfect given the circumstances. But that bring up another problem, one she had stupidly not considered up until right now, when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

Gretchen hasn’t seen her like this.

Well, she has. The whole school has, that’s kind of the point. But she hasn’t _seen_ her like this. Not in the same way Damian and Cady have, face-to-face, where she’ll try to avert her eyes from it and make polite conversation. Even with her cute little beanie, it’s likely to be a tough one. And given that it’s Gretchen, it might be ten times worse. Not her fault, and Janis can’t say she wouldn’t do the same if she was in her position, but that doesn’t make it any less exasperating for her. Suddenly the one thing she wants to do is text Gretchen and back out, but her stupid pride holds her back. Digging a bigger hole is a risk she doesn’t want to take. All she can do is wait and hope that either a) Gretchen backs out, b) there’s a terrible medical emergency pertaining to her and Gretchen can’t come over, or c) it’s at least over quickly.

Options A and B sadly don’t happen. For once her body seems to be working semi-well and right on schedule he gets a text from Gretchen saying that she’s in the lobby. Her mom took that as her cue to leave and go hang out with the other cancer moms, reminding her to call her if she needs her. And since her mom will definitely not lie about a medical emergency for her, all she can do is sit with the consequences of her own actions. And debate throwing herself out the window, which she shuts down fairly quickly. She doesn’t want to put the nurses through that.

She pretends to be reading when Gretchen comes in, softly knocking on the door. She looks nice; her hair is in some half-up, half-down thing she could never master even if she needed to and she wears a bright yellow top tucked into a blue skirt. Between the block colours and the smile on her face, Janis realises how much she could fit in here. Give her a lanyard and put her in the longue and the volunteers would take her in immediately.

“Hi, Janis,” she greets.

“Hey Gretch.” She puts down her magazine and swings her legs over the side of the bed, nodding at her. “Come on in. Welcome to Casa Janis. Hey, can you close the door?”

“Oh sure.” She comes over but sits down in the visitor’s chair rather than on the bed. Janis can’t decide if that’s better or worse. She’s already small, especially when compared to Janis, but she looks impossibly tiny now. Janis can’t even enjoy not feeling like the smallest person in the room for once. “So how are you doing?”

“Oh you know,” she shrugs. “Powering through it all.” A soft, sympathetic look creases Gretchen’s face. “I’m doing good, Gretch. How are you doing?”

“Oh me?” she asks. “Uh, I’m pretty good. I mean, school’s okay so far. I mean… I’m on the committee for planning the Halloween fair this year.”

“You are? That’s cool.” She could never picture Gretchen on the committee for anything, but now that she thinks about it, she does have a keen eye for detail. Not to mention she knows how to plan an event, although those skills weren’t forged in the best circumstances. “So what are you guys doing?”

“Oh.” Her tone is so casual compared to the excited glint in her eyes and the way her mouth turns up at the corners. She knows a suppressed smile when she sees one. “Um, your basic Halloween stuff. You know, uh apple bobbing. Scary stories. The same thing they do every year.”

“Uh-huh.” Gretchen opens her mouth, the beginning of her own question just coming out, but Janis holds her hand out to her, nodding to the empty space beside her. “Come on. You know I love that Halloween fair. And if I have to miss it, you need to give me every little detail of it.”

“Oh,” is all she responds with.

“Come on,” she says after she hesitates. “I need to make sure it’s all up to standard. I’m very protective of that fair.”

“Okay,” she says. She scrambles up beside her, her feet even farther from the floor. “Oh wow, this is comfortable.”

“Yeah, they take good care of us in here.” She nudges her with her bony elbow. “So come on. The fair, what have you guys got planned?”

“Well…” She begins. “We got Drama and English to collaborate on the scary stories this year. It’s actually pretty cool, they collected all these folktales from different cultures. And they wanted to do some classic horror stuff as well. So some of the sophomore drama kids are acting them out.” She counts them out on her fingers. “We’ve got one group doing Dracula, one doing Jekyll and Hyde and one doing Frankenstein. Oh, Damian’s helping direct them and he agreed to read out a few stories. He’s really good at it.”

“He would be,” she says.

“Okay so we have that in one corner, then we have the apple bobbing beside that. Then we got a lot of stalls lined up after it. Some of them are doing arts and crafts stuff, I don’t really know the specifics, then we’ve got another one selling treats and baked goods and stuff. I just let them handle that. Oh!” She grabs her arm only to drop it in the next second, but her smile stays bright on her face. “So then there’s the haunted house! We actually looked at a lot of the old ones, like the one you worked on!”

“Well, I am an artiste.”

“I know,” she says softly. “So what we did is we-well, I say we, I mean the art students. Not me, I couldn’t do that. But they took it and they ran with the literature theme. So we’ve got everyone in these really cool old vintage outfits looking like ghosts walking around the halls. And they’re letting us use a smoke machine!”

“I never got a smoke machine!” she interrupts indignantly. “How come you guys get to use it?”

“I planned out the budget,” Gretchen explains. “Cady helped me with the numbers a bit. I worked out that if we shopped at thrift stores and stuff for costumes and got the school more involved, we had more money for effects! Plus they gave us a bit more because it’s a good cause.”

She freezes the minute the words leave her mouth, regret all over her face. Janis doesn’t get it for a while and she can’t say if the chemo has made her brain lag or if she’s just that out of the loop. But quickly gets a suspicion.

“Good cause?”

“Um, yeah.” Gretchen fixes her hair, sliding pins further in and twirling the end around her fingers. Her feet swing farther and faster below them. “Um, the committee agreed pretty early that we should um… we should use it raise money for cancer research.” She shrugs weakly. “We just thought it would have been nice to do.”

“Yeah.” She clears her throat. She might not have an IV in her arm, nor is she knocked out, but she feels acutely aware of her cancer. Even without looking at herself. She can feel the way her blood is abnormal, feel the medicine slithering through her veins. The lost weight on her arms, the lack of weight on her head.

She’s a charity case now. Events she can’t even go to are planned around her.

“Janis?” Gretchen asks, her voice so quiet it’s practically a whisper. “Are you okay?” Before she can answer, Gretchen lets out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not. Damian was worried how you’d react to it.”

“Gretchen. It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “I’m actually kind of touched.” It’s the truth, despite how weak it makes her feel. So many people backing her up, it’s hard not to like it. She just wishes this didn’t have to happen for her to feel it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies. “And they think they might make it like that every year. Like every year they pick a new cause to donate to.”

“That’s awesome, Gretch.” They sit in comfortable, light silence for a while until Janis finds something. “So how’s everyone else? How’s Karen.”

And that’s when Gretchen’s cheeks turn bright pink, and it’s the most entertaining thing Janis has seen in a long while. Cady’s filled her in on Gretchen and Karen, how pretty much everyone knows about them and they’re none the wiser. Cady said that they might just still be friends, but Damian shook his head. According to him anyone who spends even five minutes in their company can see it. So she has two different hypothesis and she’s just testing them out.

“Um, Karen’s great,” she says. “Really great. Didn’t she come see you a few weeks ago?” She doesn’t mention how Janis puked her guts out that day; either Karen didn’t tell her or she’s being delicate. Either way is more than good with her.

“Yep. She brought muffins. They were really good.”

“Oh, yeah she’s really good at baking now.” The glowing pride on her face could be seen from space.

“It was real sweet of her,” she says fondly. Despite how badly that day ended, she’s glad it happened. “Hey, I saw you two were at her house last weekend.” Gretchen’s cheeks turn even pinker and Janis almost feels bad. “Anything special?”

“Oh yeah, that was nothing. We um, we just went and watched movies in her house. Had a pyjama day, you know.” Gretchen toys with a bracelet on her wrist; a silver chain with a baby pink gemstone in the shape of a heart. Her face is a familiar kind of soft, and Janis realises it’s the kind of soft that she gets when she thinks about Cady. They’re either together or someone has a serious, serious crush. “Karen’s really good. We’re really good.” Then she looks up at Janis and her eyes are brighter than Broadway marquees.

“We’re actually dating now!” she says.

“No!” she gasps. She doesn’t have a B in drama for nothing. “Since when?”

“Just since August,” she replies. “We actually just had our two month anniversary just then.”

“Aww.”

“Yeah. We went got sundaes and went to the movies. It was super romantic.” There’s even a hint of a giggle in Gretchen’s voice. The bloom of first love and all that.

“It sounds it.”

“Does it?” she asks. “Sorry. I just don’t know romance very well. I mean, we’re not you and Cady.”

“Me and Cady?” Janis echoes.

“Well, yeah. I mean you two are kind of the it couple when it comes to romance.”

“Really?” she asks proudly. “We never really thought about it like that.”

“You two just seem so… happy with each other,” she says. “Not that me and Karen aren’t happy, we totally are. I just hope we stay that way. That we have a relationship like you and Cady.”

“Woah there.” She holds up her hand to stop Gretchen in her tracks. “Me and Cady are far from perfect. Especially now.” She presses her fist into her palm, chewing the inside of her cheek, unsure what version of events she should give. “I mean… I almost didn’t even tell her I had cancer.” Gretchen’s mouth falls open a little at that. “No relationship is perfect, Gretch. Don’t try to model me and Caddy. You and Karen do you and Karen.”

“Do Me and Karen,” she repeats softly.

“Yeah. You know, move at your own pace. Be happy with each other.” Gretchen nods, her mouth moving like she’s making mental notes.

“Thanks, Janis.”

“Well, not to brag, but Cady and I have been together for seven whole months.” Half a year, she realises. Half a year she’s been with Cady. They never celebrated little anniversaries like Karen and Gretchen, but six months was just a month ago. And neither one realised. “So I’m a bit of an expert.”

“Yeah you are,” Gretchen chuckles.

Gretchen has to leave a little while later and Janis even has the manners (and energy) to walk her to the elevator. She gives her a quick hug before she leaves and though Janis braces herself, it’s nowhere near as awkward as she thought it would be. In fact, while she might be little, she packs a lot into it.

“I’ll see you soon,” she tells her. “Is that cool with you?”

“My hospital room is your hospital room,” she says warmly. Gretchen gives her another smile, one that’s bright and sincere, before disappearing into the lift. The last thing Janis sees of her is a little tiny wave.

Her mom is back in the room when she gets there, straightening up her sheets, and a fresh looking donut sits on her tray table. Rainbow sprinkles and white icing, just as she likes them.

“How’s Gretchen?” she asks.

“She’s good.” She climbs onto the bed and picks up her book. She must have been smiling or something because her mom then asks what the face is for. She hesitates, but she’d almost certainly tell her mom this if they were at home and besides, she can’t keep it to herself. “Well, Karen and Gretchen are sort of….” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You know.”

“Oh they aren’t,” her mom says. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She leans forward and tears off a part of the donut.

“Did not expect that.” Janis simply shrugs. She’s not going to sit and act like she ‘always knew’ but at the same time, she’s not entirely surprised. If nothing else, they did always think they’d be a cute fit. “Well, good for them.”

“Yeah,” she replies, tearing the donut again. “Good for them. You want a bit?”

“Oh I’m fine, hon.” Janis frowns. It’s more than just a treat and she knows it.

“Gretchen was talking about the Halloween fair,” she goes on. “She’s on the committee for organising it this year. Apparently it’s going to be quite the affair.”

Apparently, she just can’t hide anything today because her mom rubs her back and groans in sympathy with her.

“I’m sorry kid. I know how much you love going to that fair.”

“Well there’s always next year.” She keeps quiet about the money being raised though. No doubt her mom would love that, but still. Some things she just doesn’t want to talk about. She’s about to change the subject when her mom opens her mouth again, and nothing can prepare her for what she says. “And well, who knows? Maybe here we can work something out and allow you to go.”

“Wait, for real?” Janis asks. Hope sparks up in her chest and she immediately tries to dampen it down.

“Well, maybe,” her mom says. “I was just talking to Dr Wiley and he did say you don’t have to be in the hospital 24/7. Obviously we don’t want a repeat of Saturday-”

“Okay, why didn’t this conversation come up weeks ago when I was climbing the walls?” she asks, although she isn’t mad. She can’t be.

“Because you were just starting out,” she explains. “And you still kind of are. But he did say being out in the fresh air might do you some good. I’d have my reservations about it-”

“Oh please, please do not have any reservations,” she says. Hell, she practically begs. She does everything but grab her mom’s legs.

“But if you felt up to it on the day, and Dr Wiley didn’t see a problem with it, then I don’t see why you couldn’t go around the fair for an hour, maybe.”

An inhuman noise escapes her mouth, something akin to a shriek, but the kind middle school girls use when they hear about their favourite boyband coming to town.

“As long as you don’t overwork yourself.”

“Mom, I will do nothing but eat my veggies and sleep until the fair,” she promises.

“Okay,” her mom chuckles, running her fingers over her knuckles. “What time’s your next round?”

“Oh um, an hour,” she says. They go about their own business. Well, her mom does anyway, picking up her magazine and showing Janis the parts she’d like. Janis opens up her laptop and whacks on something to keep herself entertained, but the idea of going to the fair blocks out anything else.

Going to the Halloween fair. Being with all her friends. Seeing people from school. It almost doesn’t feel real. Scratch that, it definitely doesn’t feel real. And amongst that surreal feeling is worry. Worry that something will come up, someone will say no, and she’ll have to watch the fair through her Instagram feed. It’s the main reason she doesn’t go rushing to Damian with the news. Because what if the moment she does, Dr Wiley pops his head around the door and tells her she can never leave here, ever?

Breathe, she tells herself. Her plans are in the universe’s hands. All she can do is sit back, cross her fingers, and pray no-one says no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! comments and kudos make a happy writer and a happy writer makes fics and fics make a happy fandom!!


	13. Janis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new thing: Cady is now nonbinary and using she/they pronouns! 
> 
> I am cis, so if any nonbinary or trans reader feels I'm not doing a good job in this regard, please let me know, I'd love to be able to write this in the best way possible.

Janis starts to believe there must be a God; because she’s allowed to go.

There are rules, of course. Restrictions. She can only go for two hours, max, she has to wrap up, she has to make sure she eats properly and if anything happens leading up to it then it’s off. But she can go. She’s going to something, an actual event in an actual place that isn’t planned by the hospital or by the Cancer Fund. She’s going to the Halloween Fair, one of her most favourite events ever, with her friends.

It’s only because she has a reputation to maintain that she doesn’t weep.

However, her reputation doesn’t prevent her from squealing in delight on Facetime with Damian and Cady, her face scrunched up like a little bunny and her hand clasped over her mouth. She is vaguely aware of the fact that she sounds like a thirteen year old girl, but she’s far too happy to give a shit. Her friends sound the exact same anyways. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, half-wrapped in a blanket, with the sky completely black outside her window and the fairy lights around her bed creating tiny orange shadows on the wall. The whole atmosphere stirs something in her soul on a good day, even more so now that this is actually happening.

“Oh my god, this is going to be so much fun,” Damian gasps. “I can’t believe they’re actually letting you out!”

“I like how you phrased that,” Janis remarks. “Like I’m some dangerous criminal who can’t be let out for the safety of wider society.”

“Oh please, I watched you get into a fist fight with a senior in freshman year over the last candy apple!”

“You did what?” Cady squeaks, somehow both annoyed and impressed. “Um, how did that happen?”

“I wanted a candy apple,” Janis says, as if that should be obvious to everyone. “Besides, I probably won’t be getting into any fights this year. I won’t need to.”

“Yeah you’d have to be a real jackass to get into a fight with someone who has cancer,” Cady reasons, popping another carrot stick in her mouth.

“Ooh, on second thoughts, maybe I could totally annihilate someone’s reputation by annoying them so much they want to fight me!” Janis gasps. Damian nods enthusiastically, his eyes bright and his smile stretched across his face. On the other hand, Cady simply shakes their head.

“You two are horrible people,” they sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the one moral person in this entire group.”

“That’s why we keep you around,” Damian tells them. “To keep us in check.”

“And what happens when we all go our separate ways to college?”

“Then I go on my crime spree and begin my career as an internationally respected criminal mastermind,” he reasons. Cady scoffs and shakes their head at that.

“Are you guys dressing up?” Janis asks, swiftly changing the subject before Damian can talk about how his future includes a mafia boss husband. And it does; they already made those plans when they were still in junior high.

“Oh, definitely,” Cady says. “Especially since we don’t have to be sexy this time around.”

“Yeah, but anything you dress up as is sexy,” Janis replies, and she blows a kiss for the full effect. Her words make Cady’s cheeks flush pink and they hide behind their hands in a way that makes Janis’ heart melt completely.

“Noooooo,” they protest.

“Yeeeeeeeesss,” Janis replies.

“Grooooooooooss,” Damian chimes in, earning mock glares from the two of them. “Stop corrupting our cinnamon roll, Janis.”

“And I take it you have your costume all planned out,” she asks. Halloween has Damian written all over it for several reasons, and one being he never misses the opportunity to dress up.

“Actually, as one of the Fair’s storytellers, dressing up for me is already compulsory,” he says. “But I had it planned out since August if that’s what you were referring to.” He leans forwards on his desk, wiggling his eyebrows as though he’s dropping the hottest celebrity gossip on them. “And trust me, it is _tres spook._ ” And of course, he has the horribly exaggerated French accent for the full dramatic effect. It sounds the furthest thing from French, in reality. More Martian.

“Oh God,” Janis groans. “On behalf of my French relatives, I am offended. We should ban you from France.”

“You really think you’re the French ambassador, don’t you?” Damian asks. Before she can answer though, he gets his own reference and jumps into a rendition of one particular Hamilton song. “She’s been kicking ass as the ambassador to France, but someone’s gotta keep the American promise, you simply must meet Janis, Janis!”

“Janis Sarkisian’s coming hoooo-oooome!” Cady sings, their hands cupped around their mouth and their head bopping in time with the beat. Janis cackles, her head hitting the wall as she leans back, her stomach hurting from laughing so hard.

God, she loves them. Both of them.

“Damian, you got her into Hamilton?” Janis asks. “How long did that take you?”

“I actually didn’t,” he says, to which Janis responds with a sceptic raised eyebrow. “I didn’t. Apparently one of her little Junior Mathelete babies did.”

“That’s true,” Cady says. “Actually, they rewrote the entirety of My Shot to talk about math. It’s so cool, and they said they’re going to perform it this year in the talent show.”

“Oh, I’m so sad I’m missing that,” Janis says. But her feelings aside, the smile on Cady’s face is so beautifully real, their eyes sparkling and their shoulders shimmying as they think about their Mathletes that it makes Janis’ heart warm. They’ve come so far, accomplished so much in the short space of time they’ve had. She makes a mental note to tell them how proud she is next time they’re actually face to face. “So how goes the baby Mathletes?”

“Oh, they’re awesome!” Their voice has a little sing-song quality to it. “They actually have their first tournament coming up, did I mention that? Anyway, it’s in like two weeks against this other school in-”

A shrill ring cuts Cady off, something on their screen catching their attention, and their face immediately falls.

“Oh, uh… Sorry.” They half-reach behind them, fingers flexing awkwardly in mid-air. “I uh, I have to go. Sorry Janis, I thought I had more time, but I’ve got tutoring in ten minutes and their house is-”

“Caddy,” Janis interrupts, her voice gentle. “It’s okay. Go do your tutoring you little nerd. Keep putting good out into the world, babe.” They soften at that, even if they’re still reluctant. “I’ll still be here when you’re finished.”

Cady nods at that, the smile on their face easy and affectionate and so, so quiet, like it was only meant for the two of them. Indeed, Damian averts his gaze just as Janis feels her face getting warm, letting the two of them have their privacy. Cady sighs and after a pause, listens to Janis and lifts their jacket.

“Okay,” they breathe gently. “I’ll see you later.”

The screen where Cady was freezes, then turns black and then they’re gone.

“And then there were two,” Damian sighs.

“Indeed,” she replies.

“Although… I might not be able to hang around for much longer either.” He shrugs apologetically, his eyes avoiding hers. “Homework.”

“Nah, that’s cool,” she says. “I mean, my situation isn’t ideal, but at least I don’t have homework.”

“True that. It’s unfair. I think we should send you math just to keep the balance.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “I have already learned way more about the medical world than I ever care to. And mainly thanks to the med student you’re so into.” She leans back more and turns onto her side, taking the phone with her. “Oh by the way; he did wear a rainbow yesterday. Make of that what you will.”

“That is a very important update,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. Janis by contrast makes a point of gagging.

“You do know he’s too old for you?” she tells him. “I did the math and unless he’s a genius who graduated high school at 16, he’s at least 23. At least.”

“I’m willing to wait.”

“Ugh, disgusting,” she mutters, rolling her eyes for added effect. “So, spill the beans. Halloween fair, what are you wearing?”

“Okay, so.” He leans forwards on his elbow, bounding a little above his chair, his eyes lighting up. “Okay for the official student duties, I will be dressed as a spooky looking elderly Victorian gentleman.” He leans close to the camera and whispers “He feeds on children’s souls.”

“Well that’s neat.”

“Thank you, I have named the character Vincent,” he chuckles, a proud tone in his voice. “And then after that, if you guys give me like five minutes to change, I will be dressed as…” He does a complete 180 with his voice just for this moment, turning it from the happy-go-lucky elf she’s come to love to darker, gravelling tone somewhat resembling a movie trailer voice. “The zombie of a Broadway performer, mangled in a horrific accident involving a sandbag and a falling spotlight.”

“So basically your future?”

Damian’s gasp could probably be heard through the whole ward, and some dogs as well with how high it is. He commits to the drama completely; his hand flat against his chest and his whole body thrown back in a fit of indignance.

“How dare you!” he says. “I am appalled. Flabbergasted. Gobsmacked, Miss Sarkisian!”

“You’re a dramatic bitch is what you are,” she chuckles. She stretches her legs and wriggles around, her body growing stiff from sitting in her bed. “Is the fireworks display still happening?”

“Oh, that’s all covered,” Damian tells her. “Everything’s ordered, checked and double checked, just to be sure, and we’ve distributed the safety leaflets. We don’t want a repeat of freshman year.” Janis chuckles at the memory; Mr Duval apparently having a breakdown in his office when Caitlyn Cussain’s hair had caught fire. Sometimes Janis swears she can still smell the lingering smouldering when she stands too close to her. “They will be set off at midnight and not a minute before to appease the Halloween spirits.”

“Oh,” Janis groans. The past three years, the best part of the Halloween fair has been watching the fireworks going off. She and Damian would sit safely up on the highest bleacher, huddled under jackets and high on sugar, watching them go off before them.

It only now hits her how romantic that would have been to do with Cady.

“You better livestream that thing,” she tells him. “Seriously. From our spot, get a good angle. Make me feel like I’m really there.”

“You can’t stay until then?” he asks.

“Are you kidding? The Lord himself could tell my mom it would be okay and she still wouldn’t let me.” She stuffs two more chips in her mouth before continuing. “Besides, it’s for the best. I’d pass out if I stuck around after 10. I’m like an incredibly lame version of Cinderella except instead of a pumpkin carriage I get chemotherapy.”

Damian hums in acknowledgement and shifts in his seat. Janis bites her tongue, silently cursing herself. She still trusts him more than anyone else, that hasn’t changed, but it’s hard to gauge what he can handle hearing.

“You know, I don’t have to stick around until the end,” he tells her. “I could take you ho-back to the hospital. We could stick on some spooky movies.”

“I’m sorry-what?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We could even buy a load of terrible candy and baked goods from the fair and hang out.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she begins. “Who are you? Because there is no way my Damian Hubbard would willingly miss watching Halloween fireworks.” She holds her phone steady and glares into the camera, her eyes narrowed. “So who are you, false Damian?”

“I am not a false Damian,” he tells her. “And… well, I just don’t like the whole idea of you being alone. Not while we’re all out anyway.” He shrugs, his lips rolled into a thin line. “It would just feel weird. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“Oh.” She pushes herself up again and crosses her legs, clasping her hands on her lap. The corners of her cheeks turn up into a smile even as her cheeks turn pink. She shouldn’t even be flattered by something like this, not now, at this point. But here she is. She looks up at him, a rainbow coloured beanie on his head, and a lump suddenly forms in her throat. It’s either out of guilt or gratitude, she’s not sure. But she is sure she’s not letting him do this. “Damian, you don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah he do,” he smiles. “It’s not even that big a thing.”

“Oh, it is. It is to you. Come on, I know you, Hubbard.” He can’t debate that. “I’ll be okay. I’ll probably just go straight to bed when I get back in. Go have fun. Live your life and all that.”

“It’s just one night,” he says, though his resolve is obviously weakening. “Besides, Halloween’s our thing.”

“True,” she replies. “But it’s also your last Halloween at North Shore. Go make the most of it. I’ll be able to catch it next year.” He nods, uncertainty written across his face. All it would take is one good point to get him on her side. “Besides, if you do come over, I will literally ask my doctor to pump me so full of anaesthetics that I pass out and you’re bored out of your god damned mind.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where she worries she crossed a line. Then he bursts into laughter, half leaning on the desk and his shoulders shaking, the sound cracking and wavering on the poor audio, but making her soul warm all the same. She’s pretty sure she even sees his eyes start to water and he can only get out single syllables as he tries to form coherent sentences.

“That’s such a weird threat!” he manages to get out. “I can’t decide whether or not that’s fucked up!”

“It is definitely fucked up,” she says. “And it’s a threat I’ll make good on if you dare try to come back here with me instead of celebrating Halloween properly like the loser you are.”

Damian heaves a sigh and looks at her, conflicted. Her eyes don’t leave his face, but she crosses her fingers under the table.

“Only if you’re sure,” he says. And look at that, she won. Maybe she should try out for the debate team next year.

“I absolutely am,” she assures him. “And don’t you worry, I’m going to be there bright eyed for a whopping 90 minutes. Maybe two hours, who knows.”

“Well someone’s optimistic. When did that happen?”

“You rub off on me. Besides, I won’t be lonely. I’ve got some buddies up in here to keep me company.” He chuckles again before his eyes move behind him and his face falls. She knows that expression all too well, she would even if she didn’t just see it on Cady. It’s the same face her dad inevitably has every single night. “You need to go, don’t you?”

“Optimistic and psychic?” he grins. “Are they giving you cancer drugs or superpowers in there?”

“Both,” she answers. “So I’ll see you later?”

“See you later, kid. Rest up and try not to do anything crazy so that we can eat our weight in candy next week.”

“Deal,” she replies before he signs off and she’s sent back to the homepage, her friends all reduced to profile pictures and little grey dots.

She shuts her phone off and grabs the TV remote, hoping to get a proper scary movie on Netflix. The spooky themed movie nights the hospital organises are all fine and good, but since there’s more than a few under-15s, most of their features are early 2000s Disney flicks or others that would be supernatural themed but still family friendly. And the longer the goes without a proper horror movie, the more she aches for a good scare. She opens her phone again and scrolls down. Maybe if Melissa or any of the others are up for it they can all watch together.

“Hey kid.” Janis looks up to see her mom with coffee in hand coming into the room and, to her surprise, Maddie’s mom. It shouldn’t really be a surprise, she reasons, they probably hang out in here all the time while she isn’t around, and yet here she is. While she tries not to show it, she’s not completely on board with her being here. It’s her room after all. Still, she breezes into the room without a care, sitting herself in one of the chairs beside the bed, Janis’ uneasiness unknown to her. Her mom sits down on the end of the bed, her smile eager. “So how’d they take it?”

“Completely happily,” Janis says. “They’re really excited.”

“This is the best friend?” Maddie’s mom cuts in. “And the girlfriend?”

“Yep. I just told them about me going to this event at my school next week,” she explains, tossing the phone between her hands and trying to suppress the blossoming smile on her face. “This Halloween thing. It’ll be really fun.”

“You told them you have to leave early, didn’t you?”

“Oh my gosh Mom, of course I did,” Janis sighs. “And they’re both completely fine with that.” She leaves out the part where Cady promised to plan out their day to maximise their fun while including regular breaks for Janis. She kind of hopes they’ll forget about that part.

“Well, I’m sure you’re excited,” Maddie’s mom says wistfully. “Maddie’s so beat up about missing out on Halloween.” She directs everything at Janis rather than at her mom. Probably because out of all the people in this room, Janis understands Maddie the most. “She just loves this time of year.”

“I know,” she says. “I’ve seen all the Halloween themed pyjamas. She seems to love it was much as I do.” She frowns slightly, thinking about Maddie having to watch her favourite holiday pass her by. That was her up until a few days ago, before this became a possibility, and the feeling still lingers. At least she is getting something. What’s Maddie going to get, other store bought pizzas and seasonally-appropriate napkins? “Woah, she must be really bummed.”

“Oh, she puts on a brave face,” her mom tells them. “But you know how it is. I’ve tried to tell her how she can still dress up and all that, but it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

“I guess not.”

“Even if it’s all for the best,” she goes on. “Just not worth it to her now. All we can do is hopefully give her the absolute best Halloween next year.”

Janis hums in agreement, but really she wishes Maddie’s mom hadn’t said anything. Much as she appreciates the sentiment, next Halloween is a whole year away. She knows she can’t wait that long, and Maddie most definitely can’t. Time moves differently when you’re her age and it means something different in here. Next Halloween is absolutely worthless, no matter how many promises are hung around it. Most of them can’t even think that far ahead. This year is the one that matters. It’s why she’s so beyond grateful to be able to do something now.

“Still, I’m sure the hospital volunteers will manage to whip up something special,” her own mom says. “Even if it’s not the same, it’ll still be fun.”

“Of course they will. And she might still be convinced to dress up,” she adds. “She does love her costumes.” She shakes her head and lets out a shaky breath, one that verges on the edge of emotional. Concern flickers across her mom’s face, her eyes moving from Janis to her. And then it’s gone, replaced by a bright smile like nothing had happened. “So Janis, your mom says you’re Amsterdam bound next year?”

“That’s the plan,” she replies. “We don’t really have a date set yet. But it’s happening. Touch wood.” She reaches out in and taps the table beside her, just in case.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be just fine. That’s a great city to go to. And you’re going to some art gallery too?”

“Yup. The Kröller-Müller Museum. It’s pretty awesome. Home to one of the biggest collections of Van Gogh there is.”

“Oh, it sounds it,” she tells her in the most perfect Mom Voice, complete with perky enthusiasm and a cheerful, if slightly confused expression. It fades quickly when she checks her watch though, and Janis watches her lip set in a thin line. “Well I should go check on the little munchkin. Thanks for coffee, Laura.”

“Oh, my treat, Stef,” she says. She grasps her shoulder and gives her a smile that implies that if Janis weren’t here, there would definitely be a hug. Janis averts her eyes anyways.

“Enjoy your fair, Janis,” Stef says.

“I’ll bring Maddie back a candy apple,” she says.

“Thank you.” It sounds sincere, really sincere. Janis picks her phone back up and lets her mom and Stef have another goodbye. Janis goes back to fiddling with the TV remote, half her mind focussing on next week and the other half focussed on Maddie. It’s a weird feeling; being immensely happy for herself and sad for someone else at the exact same time. She almost wishes she could bring her along with her. Share the Halloween spirit and all that.

“Hey, everything okay?” her mom asks, coming back in after having given one final goodbye to Stef. And yet she gets called dramatic for hugging Cady goodbye.

“I’m fine,” she sighs. She kicks her blankets off and turns around, letting her feet dangle. Despite Stef’s absence, something from their conversation lingers around. The barely hidden concern, the façade cracking just for a minute. The way her mom didn’t know who to be more worried about.

“When’s your next round?” she asks.

“Not for another hour,” she says, as though her mom doesn’t have her medicine schedule memorised already. She lefts up her legs and tucks her knees under her chin, one hand around them and the other typing out a message for her new groupchat; checking if anyone’s up and available. They worked out a few weeks ago that a groupchat is far more efficient (and less awkward) than poking your head around someone’s door and finding them half-knocked out. “It sucks for Maddie, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” her mom groans. “Hopefully, they’re able to organise something really fun for everyone in here.” Janis hums in agreement. Much as she knows how lucky she is to be able to go out, she almost sort of feels bad about it. “Remember how much you loved trick of treating at that age? You even said you were glad you and Regina weren’t friends anymore because it meant you could go with Damian.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, drumming her fingers on the mattress. “Just hope they can have some fun.”

“I’m sure they will,” her mom says. She sits down next to her and after a brief second, reaches out and rubs her hand up and down her back before turning the subject around completely. “So, any plans for tonight?”

“Oh yeah, we’re all going out on the town. Tear it up. Chicago won’t know what hit it.”

“Ha, ha,” she says dryly. She’s about to tell her she doesn’t know, and that her plans are likely going to be nothing, only her phone pings at that moment, once, twice, three times in rapid succession, the groupchat bursting into life. “Something going on?”

“Movie night,” she responds. “In Melissa’s room.”

“Ooh, sounds fun,” she says, picking up a spare blanket and folding it over the end of the bed. “Something scary and gory?”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes just a little. Not enough to be deemed as ‘attitude’, but enough to make her mom pretend to be annoyed and give her a look.

“Try to get some rest in before it, okay?” she says as she flips the TV on, taking another sip of her coffee and handing her over a donut. “You don’t want to pass out mid-movie.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she mumbles, taking a bite out of it.

*****

The night before Halloween this year honestly feels more like the night before Christmas. She’s always excited the night before, but this year she almost feels like a kid again, bouncing on the balls of her feet, keeping one eye on the clock and willing it to go faster. She keeps her phone close by all day, more than she normally does, her fingers flying over the keypad the minute she gets a text from Cady or Damian. Not just them, actually, she even replies to Gretchen and Karen with the same level of enthusiasm and she can’t find it in her to feel ashamed of or embarrassed by it. Regina doesn’t text her all day, but she actually has the feeling that if she did, she’d actually be the same with her. Or at the very least it wouldn’t ruin her day.

So throughout the abnormally long day, she feels nothing but excitement. Beyond that. Ecstasy, she’d say; fizzing in her veins, wriggling her toes, fluttering in her stomach. When she goes to bed, she still has her phone, sending goodnight texts to Cady with promises that she’ll see her tomorrow and that she can’t wait to “smush your beautiful little face” and the feeling of complete contentment, certain that tomorrow will be the happiest she’s been in a long while.

Only when she wakes up, the only thing she wants to do is go back to sleep. It’s like everything she felt the day before was taken out, shaken around, turned upside down and then stuck back inside her. The butterflies that danced in her stomach are dead and turn slowly, around and around. Where she felt like she was floating on air, she feels like she’s trudging through mud. Even pushing off the blankets and sitting up takes monumental effort. The light in her heart has been dialled down by some invisible hand, without her consent. It’s not that she suddenly doesn’t want to go. She does, the idea of not being able to go still kills her. But she also feels like it might be better if she couldn’t go.

And that scares her. Before anything else, she’s scared. She doesn’t know what this means, but judging by the clock on her wall, she as T-minus 12 hours to snap the hell out of it.

Doctor Wiley comes in during her first round, another random check-up. It’s a rare occurrence where he catches her on her own; her mom went down to the coffee machine for five minutes, which she recently realised is really just code for code for ‘I’m going to go have a gab session with some of my new friends, I’ll be anywhere between half an hour and an hour’. Good for her is what she thinks.

“So, Janis, how are you feeling?” he asks her.

“Fine. You know, same as ever.” She tugs lightly on the IV. “Getting everything I need from this little boy right here. And don’t worry-” She lifts the can of La Croix water from her table and waves it at him before taking a sip. “We’re staying hydrated up in here.”

“Good to hear. And I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that you’re still cleared to go out with your friends tonight. As long as you’re feeling up to it, of course.”

“Oh. Yeah, totally. I am completely up to that.” The words feel foreign in her mouth. Like she’s reading off of a script, and it doesn’t make any sense to her. Everything she had felt yesterday feels alien to her.

“Janis?” Wiley asks. _Shoot_ she thinks. She really needs to get better at hiding crap like this. Wiley tilts his head at her, taking one step closer to her, and then another. “Is everything okay?”

“Um, sure, everything’s fine,” she says. “We’re good here. Really good. Excited, you know?” She pumps her fists in the air, turning it into a little dance of sorts. The worst part here is that she’s not exactly lying. It just should be 100% true, and it isn’t.

Wiley doesn’t leave, even when the conversation goes nowhere and he runs out of medical related things to interrogate her on. There’s a knowingness to the way he watches her that makes her squirm; it’s not malicious, hell, this man probably doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body. It’s just uncomfortable, the idea of him being privy to something she can’t quite articulate.

Still, if anyone might have answers here, it’s him. At least he’s more approachable than the overly-peppy volunteers, and he’s less off-putting than the counsellors they have around here.

“Hey, Doctor Wiley?” she asks eventually. “Um, I was just wondering….” She taps her fingers against the little bag, watching his eyes widen as it swings slightly. “Uh… does this stuff effect your mood? Like, cause mood swings and stuff?”

“Well, yes, in a short answer,” he says. “Just like any other medication, it can mess with your moods a little. You’ve probably seen it yourself with some of your peers here.”

“Oh, yeah.” She remembers certain people being more withdrawn on certain days and chalking it up to being overtired, or just plain stressed. Certainly, she’s had days where wallowing around for a few hours felt like the best thing to do. She had just never put two and two together.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She doesn’t fool him. So much so that he comes closer to her again and even sits down in the visitor’s chair beside her bed. She bites down on the inside of her cheek, her fingers curling tightly into the blanket as her shoulders tighten. It’s all she can do to keep the scream inside of her.

“You know, Janis, no-one would blame you for not feeling yourself,” he tells her.

“I know,” she says stiffly. “No, I’m fine. I’m... myself. I’ll be fine.” Wiley hums, not in agreement or disagreement, just seemingly to fill the space. Janis swings her legs, her shoulders hunched, and taps her finger against the mattress. She shakes her head, slightly unsure if the gesture is directed at Wiley or herself. “I’ll be fine,” she says again, firmer this time. “I’m probably just tired.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “But the chemo can cause mood swings Janis. As can other things. You’re in a very difficult and stressful situation.” She snorts. Like she needs to be told twice. “And this can manifest itself in different ways for people.”

“I thought you were strictly the medical side of things,” she says dryly, her mouth quirking up into a grin. Wiley huffs a laugh at that.

“I am,” he tells her. “You think I didn’t study mental health in my five years of medical school? That’d be a pretty shoddy education.” She nods again and he gets up, straightening out his coat. “Well, you know where to go in this situation.” He pauses, taking in a breath. “And I’d consider it Janis. For your own sake.” There’s a seriousness to his voice that only ever comes out when it’s important, and it makes her sit up straighter. Even if it’s gone as soon as it came, replaced by his goofy-dad persona, she can’t shake it off. “You have a fun day with your friends now. Don’t be getting into too much trouble out there.”

As the day goes on, she constantly goes back and forth with herself. Telling herself that she’s being ridiculous for no good reason, only to then counter-argue and say that she has every reason to feel this way, that for some reason she shouldn’t go. The problem is that her brain won’t tell her what the reason is, and she’s left feeling dizzy from listening to this for hours on end.

She starts getting ready over an hour before she’s due to leave, purely to give herself something to do. She tells herself that it’s to make sure she leaves herself enough time, but that’s bull and she knows it. Even if she moves slower than she would under normal circumstances, she’s still leaving herself plenty of time. Not like her outfit is overly elaborate either.

While she had wanted to wear a classic ‘shorts and fishnets’ combo, her mom wasn’t hearing it, insistent that it was too cold, and to make it worse, Doctor Wiley was on her side, meaning she went for a pair of black skinny jeans she got her dad to drop off and a thick black sweater that was a Christmas present and that is admittedly very cute, and apparently practical given the October chill. All in all, perfect for Halloween.

She makes another discovery when she gets dressed. When she pulls the jeans on, she finds them significantly looser than they were before, the wriggling and struggling she’s grown accustomed to long gone. Rather than clinging to her legs they sag around them, creating wrinkles in the denim. With a resigned sigh and a scowl on her face, she pulls them up, and her fear is realised; where they used to hug her waist and fit snuggly, they hang off her, leaving a gap between her and the waistband that’s big enough for her to fit her whole hand in, fingers spread.

Like her hair falling out, she knew she’d lose weight as part of this process. Even if she hadn’t been told at the beginning, Doctor Wiley booking appointments to keep track of it and the weekly vomiting certainly brought it to her mind. But unlike her hair, she hadn’t given it that much thought until now. No real reason for it other than it having slipped her mind and faded into the background, only now it’s come right back to face her. Making sure the door is closed, she goes over to the mirror and pulls the jeans down and her top off, looking at her half-naked reflection. She had never paid much attention to her body before, but even then the difference is so, so clear. The way her bones poke out through the skin is almost shudder-inducing and her limbs look so breakable that she can’t blame her mom and Cady for worrying if she’ll be okay. She now wonders if she’ll be okay. If the wind gets too fierce maybe she’ll get caught up in it and fly away forever.

And it hits her; why she has this simmering hope that she won’t be able to go. A plain and simple reason; people will see her. People who aren’t Damian and Cady, people she doesn’t trust. People who stood and laughed when a slur was written on her locker. People who applauded her and carried her out of the gym on their shoulders last year. They’ll see her and they might not even recognise her. They might not be able to look past the bald head and thin, frail frame. Beyond the cancer.

As she rolls the jeans back up, she swallows the lump in her throat. Despite the dread that comes with her newfound clarity, she isn’t backing out. Mainly because that would cause raise far more questions and problems than it would solve and also because no matter what else, she just knows she’ll regret it if she does. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t also wish she could just snap to the end of it and have it over with, have endured the pitying looks and the soft glances and the whispered ‘how are you doing’s. Or that they had done something else, her, Damian and Cady snuggled up on his couch, out of sight of the rest of the world.

“You have to face the world sometime,” she mutters to her reflection as she pulls on her black beanie and, for the Halloween touch, places a pair of cat ears on top of it. She smiles at herself, and then pulls a face for good measure. She gives herself a nod, her hands clenched into fists. Into battle, she thinks.

Her mom pulls up to the school gates just as she’s putting on the final touches; cat whiskers drawn on with eyeliner. Because when can she be theatrical if not at Halloween? She’s done a fairly good job, despite her slightly shaky hands and the amount of speed bumps her mom drove over and corners they had to turn. It’s just a good thing she remembered to do the rest of her make-up at the hospital. It’s the first time since September she’s gone and done the full face; framed eyes, purple lips, filled cheeks. It feels good.

“Okay,” her mom sighs as they slow down. “Okay there’s a lot of people here so I probably have to move fast.” She turns to Janis, the severity on her face more appropriate for a college send off than a high school Halloween bash. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she tells her, her voice stronger than she feels. “I’ve got my cell phone; I’ll call you if I need to go back. And I’ll be with either Cady or Damian or both the entire time. And there will be food, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, a soft smile gracing her face and breaking through the seriousness. “You have a good time, okay?”

“I will have the most pleasant evening imaginable,” she jokes before climbing out of the car, her jacket on and her bag sitting on her shoulders. She gives her mom a final wave through the window before she peels away from the curb, revealing Cady standing on the other side of the road, wearing a white and yellow shirt and blue jeans that would seem like nothing extraordinary, but the big bronze buckle on the belt and red cowboy hat are a dead giveaway, as well as the yellow bows at the end of her plaits. And just with the sight of her, the heavy feeling in Janis’ stomach begins to clear.

“Hey, you,” she ways as she approaches her, folding her into a tight hug and letting her fingers tangle in her hair. “You look amazing.”

“So do you,” Cady laughs, tapping her nose with her finger. “Very cute.”

“Well you know, minimal effort, maximum results,” she replies, making Cady giggle, nose scrunched up and double dimples. Janis runs her hand down Cady’s arm and links their fingers together, swinging them together and revelling in the feeling of her next to her. She’s not exaggerating when she says that time she gets to hold Cady again, she feels like she found something she had been missing. “Ooh your hand’s so warm. I’m not letting go of it.”

“That’s a very… odd compliment,” she says, squeezing her hand tightly. “But I happily oblige.” With her free hand, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded up sheet of paper and while Janis can’t read it, she can see the different coloured highlighters making marks on it.

“You managed to fit that in your pocket?” she asks. “How? My pockets can barely fit my phone.”

“Thrift store jeans,” she answers. “Okay, so Damian doesn’t start his part in the scary stories for another 20 minutes and that’s up in the gym, but in the mean time I thought we could go apple bobbing?” She avoids Janis’ eyes, insecurity evident in her grip. “I mean, only if you want to. It’s open now.”

“Caddy,” Janis says. “Would _you_ like to go apple bobbing?”

“Only if you want to,” she says. “It’s not a big deal to me.”

“Well, I want to do whatever you want to do,” she goes on. “And while your mouth says; ‘not a big deal’, your face says, ‘I have been consumed by an overwhelming need to attempt to grab apples in my mouth from a barrel of water.”

“Oh stop.” Her cheeks turn pink though, confirming Janis’ suspicions. “It’s just… when I was coming over here, I was reading all about American customs for different holidays, and apple bobbing seemed kind of cool. And I didn’t get to do it last year, what with Aaron’s party and all-”

“Then let’s do it,” she says and happiness bursts over Cady’s face like sunlight breaking through clouds. Janis loves seeing Cady in all forms, but this, the way she gets excited over the most inconsequential, common things will never cease to make her fall just a little harder for her. So much so that as they approach the fair, the worry she had felt is for a few moments drowned out by Cady’s elation, the way she skips across the ground and pulls Janis along to the apple bobbing stand.

She says stand, it’s a barrel with a folding table next to it and a sign, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh Janis there’s only two people in front of us,” she whispers, letting go of her hand to cling to her arm with her entire being. She bounces on the balls of her feet, pulling Janis up and down with her. “Oh my goooosh I’m going to bob my first apple.”

“Losing your apple bobbing virginity,” she jokes, snickering even as Cady smacks her.

As they stand in line however, anxiety starts to prickle in her gut, her skin crawling with the feeling of so many eyes on her. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that her costume would make her blend in more. Colour her shocked, she was wrong.

“Is that her?” a voice says behind her, in the kind of obnoxious attempted whisper that can only be freshman, or at least a very young sophomore.

“I think so,” their friend responds. “My sister’s in her grade.”

“Wow,” the first one breathes, probably thinking they sound quieter than they do.

Janis stiffens by Cady’s side, annoyance rolling in her chest. She’s not unused to people whispering behind her back, it was her life for years, but this feels different. Not worse, just different. There’s no mal intent in this. No kindness either, but no mal intent. She’s a spectacle to them, something to ogle over and watch with wide eyes. And the more they whisper behind her, the less human she feels.

“Hey why don’t you take a picture?” she snaps over her shoulder. “It’ll last longer.”

She doesn’t look, but she hears two little ‘oh’s, followed by hasty footsteps and fading whispers. It feels good for a split second, and then she sees Cady’s crestfallen expression.

“Hey,” they whisper, nudging her in the ribs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head. “Little shits.”

“Ignore them,” Cady tells her. Easier said than done, she thinks, but she listens all the same. “They’re not important, okay? You and me are.” She leans her head on her shoulder just as the line starts moving again. “And we’re meant to be having fun remember?”

Janis nods, taking a deep breath in. Fun, that’s what this evening is meant to be about. A fun treat that’s a miracle in itself where she’s going to something she didn’t think she’d get to go to and spend time with her favourite people. She should be enjoying herself, especially under these circumstances. Even if kids like that didn’t mean any harm.

“Yeah, I remember.” She presses a kiss to Cady’s head in an attempt to ground herself. “I’m okay.”

“Good.” The time moves again, and suddenly her and Cady are at the table, Sophie sitting in an orange dress with little pumpkins on it and a pumpkin headband, grinning up at the two of them.

“Hey guys,” she greets. “So how many are going.”

“Oh just this one,” Janis says. “I’m going to be on the side taking a whole load of pictures so we can put them in the album.” She slings an arm around Cady’s shoulders, squeezes tightly and puts on what Damian refers to as her Minnesota Soccer Mom voice. “It’s her very first time apple bobbing, and her father and I, we simply couldn’t be prouder of our little cookie cake.”

“Okay weirdo,” Cady chuckles. “Don’t make me regret this.” Cady’s hand moves to her pocket but Janis beats her to it, pulling the two dollars out of her pocket and sliding it across the table. “What, Janis-”

“Ah, no,” she says, holding her hand up to silence her. “This is your big day, Caddy, I will pay for it.” When Cady attempts to protest, she simply pushes her hand further. “No child. I have not paid for a date in weeks and it’s not like my money is going anywhere.” Cady attempts again, but she soon realises how pointless it is and relents, rolling her eyes.

“You have to let me buy you a candy apple though,” she says.

Janis can’t disagree to that. She follows Cady to the apple barrel and watches as she pulls her hair back and shakes her hands out, hopping from foot to foot like an athlete warming up on the side lines. True to what she says, she gets out her phone and snaps candids of her before she realises what she’s doing.

“It’s for the scrap book,” she jokes. With a nod, Cady grips the side of the barrel, taking in a big breath. Her eyes turn steely with that competitive determination that’s so Cady and Janis changes the camera to a video.

Cady dunks her head in the barrel and not five seconds later, emerges with their fists in the air and an apple sitting in their mouth.

“Yes!” Janis exclaims. “Yes! That is my girlfriend, North Shore students! My girlfriend, champion apple bobber and significantly better than your romantic partner!”

“Hell yeah!” Cady agrees, though their voice is muffled. She turns to Sophie, her eyes gleaming and takes a satisfied bite out of the apple. “Hey, has anyone ever done this in under five seconds? I don’t think they have.”

“It’s unheard of,” Janis chips in.

“I… don’t know,” Sophie says apologetically. “We don’t usually time it.”

“Well, you should,” Janis says. Sophie only nods, slightly confused, and Janis pulls Cady aside, linking her arm through Cady’s as she munches triumphantly. “So how was baby’s first apple bobbing?”

“It was amazing,” she says. “It’s such a fun game, I can’t believe I never got to do it before.” She wraps her free arm around Janis’ waist, but just as she does her phone buzzes and she has to let go. “Oh, Regina texted. She’s here with Karen and Gretch.”

“Marvellous,” she says flatly, earning a slap from Cady.

“Be nice,” she tells her.

“I am always nice.” She kicks the ground, trying not to visibly scowl, but inside her stomach is turning uneasily. Her other classmates seeing her new look is one thing. Regina seeing it another. She feels far too open, exposed, like prey sitting open for a hunter. She swallows thickly as Cady leads her to where Regina is, her grip on Cady’s hand getting tighter. Maybe she should revise that promise she made to her, because she’s certain that her suddenly having cancer and losing her hair didn’t come up in that deal.

She doesn’t even get time to, because Regina’s standing there, the others in tow, next to a lemonade stand. Janis’s throat starts growing tighter the minute she comes into view, standing in a not-quite sexy witch costume and looking around for them. It closes altogether when she spies them, lifting her hand in a half-wave and giving Cady a lazy smile.

Her grip on Cady’s hand turns to steel, and no amount of comforting squeezing from Cady will change it.

“Hey guys,” Regina greets. “You two look good.”

“Thanks,” Cady replies. “Look, I won at apple bobbing.”

“Can you really win at that?” Regina asks. “I mean, it’s not a contest exactly. You just-”

“Cady won,” Janis interjects. Her eyes narrow at Regina, silently daring her to try it.

“Okay…” she replies. Sher eyes linger on Janis long enough for her to notice. “So how are you doing Janis?”

“Great,” she says. “I’m doing great, Regina.”

“That’s good.” The five of them stand in awkward silence, eyes shifting from one person to the other helplessly, mouths opening and closing with no words. Cady looks the most powerless, being the pin holding this group together, and Janis does feel bad for it. But also, if Regina weren’t here, she’d have no need to feel bad. And while she’d hate to exploit her situation, she’s probably the one who deserves the sympathy here.

“Okay, so Damian’s show doesn’t start for another… thirteen minutes,” Cady says eventually, consulting her watch. “So how should we kill time until then?” She looks over at Janis, smile bright and double dimples in her cheeks. “Janis?”

“Um…” Janis looks over at the (ex) Plastics again. It might be cathartic to give Regina the cold shoulder and act like a jerk all night, but it wouldn’t be enjoyable, not for Cady and certainly not for her. And does she want her one night of freedom ruined by Regina? Seriously? So, “Um, I kind of want to see what the art club has going on up here.”

“Oh, it’s so fetch,” Gretchen says, hurrying over to her side and grabbing her arm. “I really want you to see it, I just know you’ll love it.”

“Sounds fun,” she says, meaning it, and so they follow Gretchen and listen intently to her proud ramblings.

By the time they sit down in the gym, Janis has had a lot more fun than she expected and even more important, she’s managed to not murder Regina. In fact, they’ve both managed to be around each other and not trade passive-aggressive insults. They haven’t talked either, but it’s not like it’s hostile. Janis also has a candy apple on a stick and a paper bag in her pocket, filled with spooky sour snakes, little chocolate pumpkins and gooey eyeballs, and she’s marvelled at the Halloween-themed prints the art club is selling, five bucks a pop for prints of Frankenstein, graveyards, scary castles and loads more.

Miss Piper, the head of the art department, practically shrieks when she spies Janis, pulling her into a tight hug. She tells her how much the art department misses her, how art club just isn’t the same without her around.

“Trust me, I miss you guys too,” Janis had told her. “Where else am I meant to vent my emotions?”

“Well, if you ever need a sanctuary, and you’re able, our doors are always open,” she had replied her.

Her first instinct is to doubt it, but if she was allowed to come here, then who knows what else could happen?

The moment Damian steps out of the gym, Janis launches herself at him, winding her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in the crook of his neck, raising herself slightly on her toes to meet him properly. She doesn’t quite manage to knock him over this time, but she sure takes him by surprise all the same as he struggles to find his balance again. She’s not sure why; he should be well aware that he gets tackle hugs by now. He pauses only for a second before wrapping his arms around her and laughing breathlessly into her shoulder.

“Well, someone knows how to make an entrance,” he jokes.

“Someone knows how to show her best friend that she’s proud of him for doing so awesome,” she corrects, poking his cheek. She lowers her voice then, taking a cautious glance around. “I also missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he says.

With the whole gang together, Janis is determined to see the haunted house, and Gretchen is more than happy to show it off to her. She practically pulls Janis along, much to the dismay of Cady, holding onto her other hand and jogging a little to keep up.

“It’s kind of impressive how Gretchen can move that fast in those heels,” she murmurs to Cady in a rare moment when Gretchen is out of earshot.

“It’s a talent she’s striven to perfect,” Cady replies. She squeezes Janis’ hand, her other hand on her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here, Jan. None of this would have worked without you.”

“Aw, Caddy.” She presses a kiss to her head and takes a moment to nuzzle into her hair, breathing in the faint scent of lemons that is her shampoo. “Nothing could keep me away from this. Seriously nothing. No amount of doctors armed with IVs could stop me.”

Or for that matter, no amount of heads turning in her direction, or words whispered behind hands as she walks by. It’s testing her patience like hell, but she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to come. Even if she has to keep holding Cady’s hand in an effort not to lose it.

“Here we are!” Gretchen sings, coming to a halt outside the old health science building. The place is mostly used for admin nowadays, which makes it easier to use for the Haunted House attraction. And Janis has to admit, even without her artistic expertise to guide them, they didn’t do a half bad job. The building already has creepy-looking dark grey stone walls, but they’ve added fake ivy growing up the sides, and the windows either boarded up or make to look shattered, plus thin yellow eyes looking through the slats. All the way up the lawn are handmade sign posts delivering chilling warnings to “beware” and “keep away”, as well as cracked and crumbling gravestones. Some even have little zombified hands shooting out of the grass and gripping the ground, ready to rise. But the part that catches Janis’ eye the most, and is equal parts eerie and hilarious, is the well set up at the side, borrowed from the drama department and painted black, with a pair of legs sticking out of it, kicking helplessly in the air. She’s both incredibly impressed and a little miffed that she didn’t come up with it. It’s no wonder students are running up to it and milling around the grounds, younger ones pulling their less strong willed friends up to the door.

“So… what do you think?” Gretchen wrings her hands together nervously as she asks, her dark eyes fixated on Janis’ face and growing even wider by the second. She seems like she might explode if she doesn’t get an answer within the next three seconds.

“It’s amazing, Gretch,” she tells her, nudging her in the ribs. “How long did this take to put together?”

“Weeks,” she replies. “And some weekends. But a lot of the props were already there, we just needed a way to reinvent them.” There’s pride shining in her eyes, unfamiliar on her, but welcome and well-earned, nonetheless.

“Come on,” she says, pulling Cady along. “I’m dying to see what it looks like inside. Pun intended,” she adds with a wink.

“Are you sure?” Cady asks.

“Aw, is someone chicken?” she replies. “Don’t worry babe. You can hold my hand if you get too scared.”

“It’s not that,” they sigh, exasperation evident. They slow down their steps and Janis is forced to match them, and they move their head a little closer to hers. “I mean are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re not going to pass out or have a heart attack?”

“I’m not pregnant,” she replies.

“I know. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“Well I will be.” Her tone is so much sharper than she had intended it, surprising her as well as Cady, and she squeezes their hand gently in the hope that will smooth things over. “Trust me. All I have watched in the past week is horror movies. I’ve seen every terrifying image known to mankind. I’m indestructible, and in need of a good scare too. Okay?”

Cady nods, but Janis can’t take it as a victory, not when it’s as reluctant as it is. Even more so when they look back at Damian. It’s just for a second, maybe two, but she sees it and it makes her feel miles away from them.

What’s worse is that feeling doesn’t disappear when the group approaches the desk, manned by a rather bored looking Sonja, covered in green face paint and an antenna poking out of her head. However, like everyone else, she changes when she sees Janis appear.

“Hey,” she greets. “How are you doing?”

“Oh you know,” she says. “Keeping it real.”

“Nice,” she says. “Okay so it’s three dollars admission or ten for a group of five.”

“Well there’s nothing I love more than a good discount,” Janis replies. Sonja offers her a quick fist bump before they leave, which turns into a little explosion.

Inside is even more impressive than the outside, mainly thanks to the thick smoke that billows through the corridors, shrouding their legs and giving the impression that they’re floating, but the dimmed lights and shadows cast on the walls adds to it as well. Wall-length sheets of plastic and paper hang on the walls, some covered in splotches of red, some looking like old fashioned doors, and some bare. They shift and flutter in the breeze from the machine, playing tricks on their eyes. And despite their assertion that they aren’t scared, Cady snuggles a little closer to Janis.

Out of nowhere, the sound of a floorboard creaking stretches through the hall, growing out longer and climbing higher and louder until Janis feels it on the back of her neck. Cady takes her arm and pulls it around their body, looking up at Janis.

“It’s dark,” they say. “Just in case we don’t lose each other.”

“Sure, babe.”

Taking a glance behind her shoulder, she sees Gretchen and Karen doing pretty much the same thing; Gretchen’s arm around Karen’s waist and the other girl holding her hand for dear life, her blue eyes wide and her face chalk white.

Janis raises an eyebrow at Damian and nods her head towards them. Once he sees them his mouth falls open, his eyebrows shooting up in feigned surprise and real excitement. If she could, she’d spend the whole time watching Karen and Gretchen trying to navigate this house together in all their coupley glory.

It’s their coupley glory that catches Janis off-guard enough for one truly great scare; just as they turn the corner, a door that had been hidden by a sheet opens, and all Janis hears is a guttural roar as something jumps out at them, covered head to toe in black, except for the face, where they wear a plastic clown mask. No weapons, other than the extremely terrifying masks, but Janis’ heart leaps right out of her chest.

Someone, possibly Janis herself, screams “holy crap” and each of them jumps at the exact same time, becoming a mess of limbs as they cling to the next available person. In Janis’ case, it means holding Cady even tighter and her free hand searching frantically for Damian and grabbing who knows who else. The clown-demon lingers in the hallway, leering at them and making their skin crawl, before slowly stepping back, his movements mirroring that of a snake. He doesn’t take his eyes off them as he goes until finally he disappears behind the tarp, leaving them still trembling.

“That was so scary,” Karen whispers.

“I know,” Janis pants. “Wasn’t it amazing?”

By the time they stumble out the back door, blinking and squinting as they adjust to the daylight, there’s plenty more scares fresh in their mind, goosebumps permanently raised on their arms. Cady’s hand is pressed against their chest, their breathing sounding more like squeaking than anything else.

“Why do people do that?” Regina asks, doubled over. “Seriously. Why?”

“For fun,” Janis replies. She plops down on the grass and pats the space next to her for Damian.

“No seriously, why?” Regina asks again.

“Because it’s fun,” she repeats. “It’s like roller coasters. You get all the fun without actually putting yourself in danger.”

“That’s sadistic,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“Oh, you had plans?”

Her head drops at that, something Janis can’t quite place flickering across her face. But if she didn’t know better, if she didn’t know Regina better, she’d almost say she looked happy. What she does look is younger, in a weird way. Almost like she did when they were in middle school and were actually friends.

“No,” she says, pulling her knees against her chest. “No I didn’t.”

“Oh,” is all Janis says. She must be lying. Of course she had plans. She’s Regina George for God’s sakes, she must have had her pick of the Halloween parties to go to, a fair few of them probably involving college. And even if she didn’t, she would have planned to go get a facial or something. She doesn’t do student events, not unless there’s a shiny crown waiting for her at the end.

Janis really, really wants to dismiss her as lying.

But her gut tells her she isn’t, and that freaks her out.

“Oh my God, Karen!” Regina exclaims, casting a glance over her shoulder. Just a few feet away from them, Karen is absent mindedly shaking a bottle of soda she must have gotten from the refreshment table on the way out. The next few minutes flash in front of Janis’ eyes and Regina jumps to her feet, which is impressive given the heels, and hurries over to her. “Karen, no!”

As Janis chuckles, Cady sits down next to her, her fingers dancing on the back of Janis’ hand until she takes it and pulls her closer.

“Did that traumatise you too much?” she asks jokingly, running her thumb over her knuckles.

“A little,” she says. “But I kind of liked it.”

“You did not,” Janis tells her, raising her eyebrow. “Caddy, I was with you the whole time. You were scared shitless. You couldn’t even let go of my hand.”

“Well…. Maybe that was the part I liked.”

Janis’ cheeks burn and she can only assume they’re as pink as Karen’s lipstick. She buries her head in Cady’s chest and lets out a long, high pitched squeal as her insides turn to melted chocolate. She feels Cady giggling more than hears it, her chest moving and rumbling against her.

“Well look at that, I brought Janis Sarkisian to her knees,” she teases.

“Technically I was on my knees when you came over here.” It’s a weak response though, especially when she’s still blushing so badly it could be seen from space. Cady nods nevertheless and toys with her hand, turning her wrist over, drawing patterns on her palm, a question sparking in her eyes.

“Are you okay? I mean, are you feeling okay? I mean, do you maybe need to sit down for a minute?”

“Caddy?” she sighs, shaking her head. She’s equal parts endeared and annoyed, and she tries to lean into the former. “I’m okay. Really.” Cady nods, but there’s something about her expression that leads Janis to think there’s something else. So she kisses her nose, once, then again, then again until she starts giggling, hands slapping at her face. “What’s wrong? Come on, I know there’s something here.”

The smile slips from Cady’s face, her jaw setting. Slowly, she slides her hand into Janis’ and links their fingers.

“Just worried about you, that’s all,” she says quietly, her voice breaking. She shrugs weakly. “I don’t want you to over extend yourself.” She doesn’t need to say it; Janis is sure she’s thinking about that day in the park. Or maybe that day in the mall instead. The exact thing she wanted to protect Cady from, the anxiety, the uncertainty of this. The burden of worrying about her.

“Hey.” She reaches up her back and tangles her fingers in her hair. She tilts her head to look at her and gives her a smile, soft and gentle and above all reassuring. “I’m okay. I’ve been good all week. I’ve been taking it easy; I’ve been saving up all my energy for today. You would not believe the amount of naps I have had to take.” Cady chuckles at that, but there’s still something missing from it. A guarantee. So Janis takes a gulp and says “and the minute I start feeling like I have to, I will tag out. Promise.”

“Promise?” Cady’s eyes glisten in the setting sun.

“Swear on Maxie.” The only thing she could swear on that would be stronger is her and Cady’s relationship itself. Cady gets the message and her lips crash into Janis’, wasting no time and claiming it with strength and ferocity that befits her lion’s heart. Janis feels her crawling on top of them, her legs on either side of hers, and she takes the moment to bury her hand deeper into her hair.

When they break apart, Janis isn’t the only one whose cheeks are pink anymore.

“Well,” she whispers. “That was nice.”

“Really nice,” Cady echoes. Remembering where they are, they both quickly detangle themselves and get to their feet, stumbling over each other and themselves in the process. But as soon as they can, their hands are linked again and they’re walking over to their friends, all of whom pretend they didn’t just witness what they were doing.

“Okay come on, assholes,” Janis says. “I only have fifty minutes left here and I want to get as much spooky-ing done as humanly possible, okay?”

Damian lets out a laugh that’s full and bright in every way and they set off, golden leaves crunching beneath their feet and the cold wind raising goosebumps on their arms, and go to enjoy as much as they can. At the ring toss, Janis wins Cady a little stuffed ghost, which she she affectionately nicknames Casper (original it's not but it's utterly endearing). She and Damian share a banana and Nutella crepe together, jabbing each other with plastic forks in a fight for the last scrap of it. They buy little tiny bags of Halloween themed candy that she'll definitely munch on later. She watches Karen get her face painted and is even persuaded to get one herself, a little bat adorning her cheek. And throughout the festivities, she reconnects with her old classmates, catching up on everything Cady and Damian didn't tell her. She hadn't realised that she had actually missed them until now, but they're a part of her life, even if they're small parts. And all those are the moments that make her so, so glad she did come here after all, so grateful to the universe for letting this happen. Even if this isn't the Halloween she wanted, it's a halfway point.

But it's not perfect. All evening long she feels people looking at her. And she isn't just being paranoid either, in every line they're in she hears whispers behind her back, her name mumbled under someone's breath. People watch her as she walks past, their faces so kind and earnest and sincere it makes her want to scream. She's offered so many freebies that she gets fed up rejecting them. Not paying for something raising money for cancer research would be an irony in itself anyway. People go out of their way to let her go infront of them in the line and eye her beanie withwide-eyed respect and poorly hidden curiosity. And above all, relief that it isn't them. And it builds up; one cup of annoyance to her three cups of joy. So much so that when her mom texts her to say she's at the gate and she has to say goodbye, while she's so, so content and happy here and it physically hurts to hug her friends goodbye, there's a not-very-tiny part of her that's actually relieved to be leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy spooky season!
> 
> comments and kudos make a happy author :)


	14. Damian/Janis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> solid line indicates a change in POV :)

It’s a little after 10 when Damian comes home, his face paint starting to rub off and his puffed shirt untucked from his pants. While the bus is almost deserted at this hour, tonight it was half full, mostly consisting of drunk college students (and some high schoolers) on their way to or back from some party and reeking of alcohol. Damian had sat at the front the whole journey, his bag held between his legs and his eyes down. Maybe he should reconsider his stance on getting his licence.

When he opens the door, it’s to the sight of his mom standing in the hallway with their trick or treat bowl in her hand, her eyes shooting upwards when she sees her son on the doorstep rather than some neighbourhood kids. She looks a little disappointed too. She does love handing out candy, and fawning over every single costume, no matter how scrappy it looks. It’s her little Halloween tradition.

“Damian,” she greets. “You’re back.”

“Yep,” he replies, pulling off his coat and running his fingers through his hair. His mom nods, slightly speechless, but smiling, nonetheless. Damian peers into the bowl of treats in her hands. “Did we have much success tonight?”

“Oh, loads,” he says, holding the bowl out to her. He picks up a funsize KitKat and a lollipop, slipping the former into his pocket and the latter into his mouth. It’s one of those dark ones that’ll turn his tongue blue. “Sometimes I thought it would have been easier to just hang out at the door and wait for people. I had barely sat down before another one showed up.”

“Well, that may be because everyone knew you were making your famous death by chocolate this year,” he reminds her, poking their finger at his chest. His mom has a bit of a reputation in all circles for being a master baker. School fundraisers, boy scout meetings, weddings, funerals, she bakes for all of them and she bakes to perfection. Damian and his sisters have all insisted she go on some big baking competition and win them all a big juicy cheque. “Speaking of which…”

“Yes, your slice is in the fridge,” she tells him, caressing his cheek. She can barely ask if he has room for it before he speeds off to the kitchen, leaving her chuckling behind him. Cara and Maisie are sitting at the kitchen table, Maisie with a tutu attached to her skeleton outfit, Cara with a pirate’s hat beside her and a mountain of candy sits between them.

“Oh, someone had a good night,” he comments, giving Maisie a fright. “You two little terrors raid the neighbourhood?”

“Yep,” Maisie chirps. “Everyone gave us so much stuff! Mrs Jenkins at number 17 even gave us a whole packet of gummy worms each!”

“And where’s mine?” he asks.

“Mom says you got food at your school thing,” Cara reminds him, her eyebrow raised. She has far too much attitude for a 10 year old. He doesn’t mean to sound like a boomer, but he thinks kids these days grow up far too quickly. He knows that Cara may be on her last years of trick-or-treating and that she’s desperate to go out to parties with the big kids. “So she said you didn’t need to save you any.”

“I did indeed get food at my school thing,” he tells her, closing the fridge door with his cake in hand. “Thank you very much, little miss.” She rolls her eyes, but he catches her smile as he sits down beside them. “So, spill, I want to hear everything.”

“It was fun,” Maisie says. “We went all around this block and then we went to the next block. Just a little bit though, because we were worried about getting lost.”

“I wasn’t,” Cara says, an edge in her voice. “Damian and I used to trick or treat on that block all the time.”

“Yeah but we had Janis too,” he reminds her, watching her sink back in her chair. “And even then we didn’t do every house.” He loves Cara with every bone in his body, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to put her in her place. That no matter how big she gets; attitude doesn’t fly in this house. He dreads to think what will happen when he leaves and his mom is left with her. Hopefully, she’ll have mellowed out by then.

“Did you see Janis at your school thing?” Maisie asks, pushing her candy around the table. It’s an innocent question, a sweet one even, born out of genuine curiosity and his sister’s ever-growing love for Janis. And it’s an easy answer too. But none of that means he’s not uncomfortable with it.

“Yeah I did,” he replies.

“So she’s finished with hospital now?” she asks again and Cara visibly stiffens beside her. After telling his mom, they both agreed to give the girls slightly different versions, based on what they can handle. All Maisie knows is that Janis had to go to hospital for a while and that she lost her hair. Cara is the only one of them who knows about ‘the C word’.

“Not quite yet,” he tells her. “She will be soon though. But her doctor let her come out for a few hours to hang with us.”

“Oh,” she says. She tosses a candy bar between her hands, her expression thoughtful. “Well, that’s good. Could you give her this when you see her?” She pushes the bar across the table. It’s big, probably the biggest one she has, packed with caramel, according to the wrapper. And Maisie loves caramel. His breath catches as emotion stirs in him, pride swelling in his chest. “Just in case she needs to be cheered up.”

“Thanks, Maise,” he tells her. “Next time I see her, I’ll give it to her.” His sister smiles at his assurance and goes back to sorting through her own loot. Cara avoids his gaze, her chest rising and falling heavily and her fists clenched on the table.

“And… how is she?” she finally asks. “Janis, I mean.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice cracks when she asks, the anxiety seeping into her words, and he places his hand over hers.

“She’s good.” He doesn’t get why they words feel so clumsy in his mouth, because they’re the truth. He saw it with his own eyes, felt it when she jumped on him and wrapped him in one of those tighter than tight hugs. He could feel the strength in her body. She’s good. She looked good, not just costume wise (although he did like her minimal approach). She looked healthy. Ish. Not like she used to, but that’s normal. Even if her skin was a little paler than he remembered it, or the fact that she’s far thinner than she used to be. And she had to zip up her jacket as much as she could, and even then she was still shivering, but that’s fine. And as the night went on, she did spend more and more time leaning either him or Cady, but that’s normal. They’re all side effects, and they all mean that the treatment’s working. And once they get out on the other side of it, they’ll be fine.

He blinks, pulling himself out of whatever wormhole he just fell down. There’s a slight ringing in his head from it and he tries to shake it off, Cara and Maisie both eyeing him with concern.

“Janis is great,” he tells them firmly. He takes Cara back a little. He takes a deep breath in, his surroundings settling and grounding around him. “Uh, hey, you guys have a lot of candy here. How about we see if we can wrestle the remote from Mom and watch Halloweentown?”

“For real?” Cara asks, her face breaking out into a smile. “Okay, cool! I think Mom’s nearly done with her thing anyway. I’ll go check.”

“Meanwhile I’ll go change into something more comfy and movie-watchy,” he says, stretching as she stands. She nods, excitement sparking in her eyes, before she sets off down the hallway. Damian laughs and helps Maisie pile everything into two big bowls, planning to fit them on either side of him so that the girls can snack as they wish. Before he goes, he picks up the candy bar from the table and taps her nose with it, a soft giggle escaping her mouth as he does.

“And don’t you worry,” he tells her. “I’ll get this to Janis as soon as I can.”

“Can she come trick or treating with us next year?” she asks. “It’s no fun without her.”

He blinks at her and suddenly, the smile on his face feels fake somehow. Hollow. Like it’s hiding something, even though he doesn’t know what.

“She’d love that,” he tells her. “Now come on, this movie isn’t going to watch itself.” He runs upstairs to change, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and his Halloween sweater, the comfort a treat after a day of walking around in character shoes. The photo sits in their message log, not changing no matter how long he looks at it. He makes an effort to be okay with it, really, knowing that right now there are any number of reasons she might not be looking at her phone, and that none of them have to be bad. She always does answer, nine times out of ten with a perfectly reasonable explanation like she was asleep, so why should this be any different? The day probably tired her out, that’s all.

It’s only when he realises five minutes have passed that he shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking his head like that will straighten everything going on inside.

“You’re losing it Hubbard,” he mutters to himself. And for the one who normally has it, that’s bad. He takes a deep breath in, and then another one, until he feels more like himself again, and heads downstairs.

Much as he appreciates how important what Janis is doing is, he also can’t help wishing they could just skip past all of it to the part where she’s better and they’re normal again.

* * *

It’s the day after Halloween when Janis makes a realisation. She’s sitting in her bed, shaking off the last of what she likes to call a “chemo hangover” when she notices something in the reflection of her phone. She doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed it before, nor does she know how long it’s been there for, but now that she’s seen it, she can’t unsee it, especially not when she gets up and looks in the mirror to take a better look.

Her eyebrows are gone. Mostly. One’s half-gone, one’s about three quarters. Like a plucking job gone terribly wrong. And she managed to not notice until right now.

It makes sense. Her hair fell out, so the logical thing should be that her eyebrows disappear. Her eyelashes are gone too, most of them anyway. It’s normal, it’s obvious, and she should have worked out that this would happen back when she shaved her head. Maybe she should have went for the eyebrows too and plucked at her eyelashes. Just got it over with in one fell swoop.

She looks weird. Again, that’s news to no-one, but she does. She’d just started getting used to the being bald thing and the fact she looks like a skeleton now. But this is just something else on top of that and it feels like she’s taken a thousand steps back with it. All the way back to square one. And somehow it feels weirder. People notice losing weight and the beanie in place of her hair. People don’t notice her now having eyebrows until they get close enough and maybe even then it might escape their notice.

So maybe with that logic, she shouldn’t worry so much about it?

 _Nice try_ , she tells herself, flopping back down on the bed again. That turns out to be a mistake, as black spots dance before her eyes or a few seconds and the room seems to tilt and slide down to one side. It’s only after she squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head for a bit that it subsides. Clearly, she’s not quite shaken off that last round yet.

When she opens her eyes, she nearly jumps right off the bed. Cassie, that woman from the Cancer Fund, is standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging in a miniature ‘oh’ and her hand half extended towards her. Relief floods her face as she power walks towards her bed, apparently oblivious to the heart attack that she just gave her.

“Oh are you okay, hon?” she asks her.

“Yeah I’m okay,” she sighs, shifting just enough to be out of her reach. Something about her means Janis want those peach-painted nails nowhere near her. Cassie either manages to pick up on that or hangs back of her own accord, since she simply sits down beside her, her hands folded in her lap.

“You left the door open, and I was going to knock, but then I saw you-”

“I’m fine,” she says firmly, pressing her hands into the mattress. She takes a deep breath and manages to not scowl at her, which is an achievement by her standards given how awkward she feels and her overall discomfort around her. Never mind that she was kind of dealing with something before she walked in. “Um… what’s up?”

“I just wanted to check you’re all ready for this Saturday?” she asks. “For the photography project.”

“Yeah I know that’s Saturday.” In the very, very back of Janis’ mind she does think that maybe, a little bit, she’s being slightly too gruff here. Especially since the woman’s only trying to help out here. “Yeah, I’m all set. My friends are coming. Well, my friend and my girlfriend.”

“Oh that’s great,” she says. “So it starts at 12:30, but you might want to get your friends around a bit before that just to make sure everything’s going to be set up in time. And the photographer’s said that you can have a little play around with the camera first, just so you can see how it all works. Although something tells me you’d be a natural with one of those anyway.”

“Well I wouldn’t say a natural,” she says with a shrug. “Although I did do the photos for my school paper in freshman year.”

“See. I knew this would be right up your alley with all your artsy stuff,” she says and Janis actually laughs. Maybe this lady isn’t so bad. She’s kind of like Karen in some ways with all that perpetual sunshine and optimism, just a little smarter. Maybe that’s what Karen could do after school. Work with people like her. Cassie taps her leg with the folder she’s carrying, giving her a smile that scrunches up her face. “See you Saturday, bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“Aren’t I always, Cass?” she asks her.

“And your mom told me about all the fun you had at your school,” she adds on her way out. “I’m so glad you had such a nice time.” Janis nods at that, giving her a small wave as she leaves. She lets out a long breath and cranes her neck to look at the mirror again, sad to see that her eyebrows haven’t done a miraculous regrow since two minutes ago. They must have fallen before yesterday, she thinks. She has to wonder if anyone else noticed them. If Damian did after she tackle hugged him or if Cady did when she kissed them. Janis rubs the back of her neck as another unwelcome question creeps into her mind; did they simply not notice, or did they notice and just decide not to tell her?

It seems that today she’s the popular one, because Cassie isn’t the only one to call into her room. Because that night, when her last round is due, Doctor Wiley accompanies the nurse on duty that day. Her dad is over too, making her already small room feel even tighter.

“Good evening Janis,” Doctor Wiley agrees. “And Mr Sarkisian, nice to see you.”

“He’s here for the burgers and the burgers only,” Janis says dryly, smirking over in her dad’s direction. True enough, there is a plate on his lap with a half-eaten burger and the remainder of fries.

“Sometimes I just don’t want to cook for myself,” he replies, giving an over-exaggerated shrug. Janis chuckles; as does Wiley as the nurse hooks up her IV. Her eyes move anxiously towards her dad. She’s never been given the impression that this bothers him, but nine times out of then he comes over when she’s already been hooked up or is here way before it’s due. He rarely sees her getting hooked up and since it’s not a great experience for her, it’s not something she wants many people to see.

“So, Janis,” Wiley asks. “How are we feeling tonight?”

“Fantabulous,” she replies, throwing up a little reflexive peace sign. She always delights in the look of happy confusion on Wiley’s face when she pulls stuff like this. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, well I’m doing well,” he says. He goes to ask something else, but the nurse interrupts him.

“Okay, I’m going to put this in now, okay?” she asks.

“Just make sure you actually hit my vein, Lucy,” she says. Her dad laughs at that, but he’s the only one who does. She makes a mental note to tell him about every time she’s been made to feel like a human pin cushion. Luckily, Lucy is an old hand at this and she only has to bite her cheek and curl her toes in once.

You’d think that, over two months into this, she’d be used to stuff like this.

“Okay, that’s you for the next two hours, hon,” Lucy tells her. “You comfy enough?”

“Like a queen,” she says. Lucy nods and bids goodbye to her parents before heading off, surprisingly without Doctor Wiley. Something shifts in Janis, and she reaches out and pulls Purrlock towards her. Just in case.

“Would you mind I closed this door?” he asks. Janis holds Purrlock even closer.

“Um, no, of course not,” her mom says. “Is there something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Wiley says. He sits down on the opposite side of Janis’ bed. “Just that I’ve been talking with some of my colleagues, and we think now would be a good time for a bone marrow aspiration to monitor Janis’ progress.”

“Bone marrow aspiration?” Janis asks. “What’s that?”

“Just a small procedure to monitor how well this is going,” he explains. “We’d just be taking a sample of your bone marrow to check how well the treatment is going. At this stage, we’d like to think you’re well on your way to being finished, but we just want to make sure. And if the results are good, we can carry on as normal and finish up as planned?”

“Alternatively, they could be super, super good and I could be let out early,” she says.

“Well, we’ve never seen that happen,” he says. “But we do like to hope for miracles around here. So what do you say?”

Janis looks over at her parents, but it’s a no-brainer really.

“Sounds good,” she says. “When do we start?”

“Well, any point next week really,” he says. “We’d obviously like to get it done as quickly as possible so we can give you your results as soon as we can.” Janis nods, chewing the inside of her cheek as her stomach twists uneasily. This test thing is important, she can’t deny that. And if it’s good news, then she’ll know for sure she’s on her way out of here. Maybe she can start packing everything else up and taking it back home, so she can move out as fast as possible.

But the last time she got a test like this done, it didn’t work out so well. That’s the reason she’s here to begin with. A little black cloud had followed her around throughout that day, dominating everything. Like she knew what was going to happen. And while it may just be her brain playing tricks on her, she feels an unpleasant kind of déjà vu. If there’s one day she’d never want to live again, it’s that one.

“You okay kid?” her dad asks. Janis blinks, back in reality, finding her parents both looking at her expectantly and Doctor Wiley having already left while she was zoned out. She probably missed something there and he just assumed she was listening.

“I’m fine,” she says. Her hand rests on her arm, just over where the needle breaks through her skin. There’s a collection of little bruises on that arm now, alarmingly dark against her pale skin. She looks like a dalmatian there. “Hey Mom, can you get me a yogurt from downstairs? I’d go myself, but…” She gestures at her IV and the conversation ends there.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” she says, shooting up. “Be back in a second.” Her dad nods, squeezing her hand gently before she goes and Janis feels the need to avert her eyes. Not for the first time, she’s reminded she isn’t the only person affected by this.

“Hey dad?” she asks quietly. Her hand curls into the blanket, the question catching in her throat. “What do you do all week when we’re not home?”

It catches him off guard, it caught her off guard too. She may love her parents, and they may have been through more with them than other families have, but this kind of blunt and open earnestness is unusual for her. She gives him a shrug and picks at the blanket as he tries to find an answer.

“Well… I go to work,” he says. “I watch TV. I make dinner. I walk the puppy. I play with the puppy. I feed the puppy. I call people. I keep busy.” He hesitates for a moment before moving over to her bed, his dinner sitting abandoned on the chair. He pokes her side, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. “I’m okay, Janis. I keep myself entertained.”

“Do you… do you get lonely?” She doesn’t miss how her voice shakes as she asks the question and she suddenly feel so much younger than she is. “Y’know, without me and mom?”

There’s a long pause, and then he answers “Sometimes. A lot of the time, yeah.” His hand is on her shoulder now, where he would have run her fingers through her hair. “And that’s why I keep so busy. So time goes faster until I can see you again.”

She nods. She imagines him all alone in their big house, eating breakfast by himself, the kitchen being the only light on in the house. Maxie barking at him because there’s no-one else to bark at until she comes home. Watching TV and working and checking the clock. Eating dinner for one. She tries not to get too emotional when her dad is around, but the way the guilt comes is almost too much, rolling in waves over her. Even for someone as experienced in hiding as she is, it’s hard to suppress fully. It’s only because Damian has already chastised her for it that she doesn’t apologise for it, instead opting to squeeze his hand tightly.

“Oh, don’t tell Maxie I told you I get lonely,” he tells her, a serious edge to his voice. “I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate him.”

She lets out a laugh at that, like a little patch of blue in her grey mood.

“I won’t,” she tells him, equally as severe. “Besides, I think Max knows you love him really.”

******

The first thing Janis does on Saturday morning is down a cup of coffee. No exaggeration, the first word out of her mouth when she wakes up is ‘coffee’. She normally doesn’t like eating or drinking anything in the mornings, having learned from experience that the nausea means she’ll only puke it up later, but she’s decided to make an exception this once. She did the calculations the night before; if she gets a coffee and drinks the whole thing before her first round is due, then her body will absorb all the caffeine before she can vomit it back. And then she gets another one about an hour before Cady and Damian arrive, just to make sure she’s at her peak performance today. It’s a fool proof plan if she does say so herself, even if Cady had been a little sceptical of it when she told them. Still, they had said that if Janis was sure, they weren’t going to fight her on it.

“Besides, I’m sure your doctor would tell you if this was a bad plan,” they had said. “Right?”

“Right,” Janis had agreed, silently crossing her fingers behind her back. It wasn’t technically a lie, since Cady had never asked if she’d run her plan by a medical professional, but it still felt like one.

But it seems to be working, since she’s walking into her room with her second coffee in hand, stirring the five sugars she had dumped in it. It’s not her usual order, but since she can barely taste anything, she figured she may as well go crazy. And more sugar plus more caffeine just means more energy, right?

In addition to planning out her coffee equation last night, she also planned out her outfit. She had sent her dad a list via text of what to bring over on Wednesday so she could pick it out; meaning he had walked in with a confused look on his face and a grocery bag full of her old stuff that she hadn’t seen in months. At some point she had started leaving her nicer things at home and started investing in comfort over style. It felt a little odd, taking out all her old stuff. Like she was looking through old photos of herself.

She spent more time than she cares to admit deciding between outfits, swapping out garments and swapping them back again, mixing and matching until she found a combination that she deemed cute enough. Still comfortable, but something she would have worn normally before all this started. That’s what she’s after. Something normal.

She locks the door, just in case, and takes her pyjama top off, picking up the grey sweater she had chosen for today, decorated with a white thread skeleton on the front. Just as she pulls it on however, she comes to a depressing realisation. It’s too big on her. She doesn’t-won’t-look in the mirror, but she can tell from how lost she feels inside it, the fabric swamping her. The sleeves envelope her hands, her fingers poking out like icicles on a roof. She pulls off her leggings and grabs her tights, hoping that it looks better when it’s all together. She can’t believe she didn’t think of this. She’s said to her mom that a lot of her stuff doesn’t fit her anymore and she’s even been grown up enough to order sweats and t-shirts and pyjamas in smaller sizes. She and her mom have even had arguments over who’s paying for it. So far, winning has been split 50/50. So how did this slip her mind?

The tights don’t pose a problem, and neither do the shorts up until she has to close them. They hold up, for now, but barely hang onto her hips. And that’s when she’s standing still. She looks through the bag until she finds a belt for them, glad she at least had the foresight to ask for one. She threads it through and pulls it to the last hole, relieved to find it at least does something. They don’t exactly feel like they used to, but they’re at least secure enough for her not to worry about them.

She never thought she’d be glad for that.

She completes the look with a little shimmering black beanie, gifted from Gretchen (“I just saw it in the mall and thought ‘wow it’s so Janis’,” she had said), before checking herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know what she was expecting really. The outfit looks good- _she_ looks good, if she may be permitted to say so. She can’t complain about the outfit, really. She chose well. It just doesn’t look like she thought it would. Where the sweater would have hugged her body before it hangs limply off her frame. Tucking it into the shorts is only a slight improvement. She hadn’t thought about how wearing the shorts shows off how thin her legs are now, nor how much room she has inn. She looks like a kid playing dress-up. They don’t look like her clothes. Nor do they look like they belong on her body.

She pulls her eyes away from the mirror, swallows past the lump in her throat and picks up her phone. According to Cady’s text, she and Damian are five minutes away, her point proven by a picture she sends of the two of them cheesing at the camera while riding the bus. That brings a smile to Janis’ face despite her little wobble, and she slips the phone into her pocket and grabs her bag before heading out into the foyer, following the sound of echoing voices and the occasional flash of light following a camera shutter.

She isn’t the only one who got dressed up for this occasion, she sees. The pyjamas are all put away for today, her friends putting on what she assumes is their finest. They didn’t even plan this, but for some things they all go into a hivemind here. The place is packed and not just with patients; friends and family have come around for this. She recognises a few moms and dads and waves accordingly, but the friends are all foreign to her. Melissa throws her head back and laughs, talking to a dark haired boy Janis guesses is from her school. Janis waves and while she doesn’t get one back, she’s okay with it.

She finds Maddie in the crowd too, a camera around her neck and surrounded by what she can only describe as a group of ‘mini-Maddies’. They all look different, but all have the same toothy grin and wide eyes, all dimples in cheeks and limbs a little too long for their bodies. When Maddie tries to wave them over to a wall, they all move as one big flock of teenage girls, and Janis has to laugh. They’re adorable at that age, so she’s heard.

“Oh, hello!” A voice to her right grabs her attention and admittedly makes her jump a little bit. When she turns around there’s a young-ish guy in a leather jacket, holding a professional looking camera in his hand, and there’s no prizes for guessing where he’s from. “You’re one of the kids right?”

“Nah I just really like hanging out here,” she says flatly, only one corner of her mouth turned up. He gets the sarcasm, thankfully, and even laughs at it, extending his hand.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“Janis,” she tells him, shaking his hand.

“Okay, well I see you haven’t been given a camera,” he tells her. “So here.” The camera he had is deposited into her hands and despite her own experience with photography, she’s surprised at the weight.

“Oh, okay,” is her response, her body suddenly a lot less stable with such an expensive piece of equipment. “Uh, I’m still waiting on my friends to show up…” Her phone buzzes in her pocket, making her heart almost drop to the floor. She can’t take any shocks, not when she’s holding something that, again, looks like it costs her college tuition. “And that’s probably them now.”

“Okay, fantastic!” Sebastian says. “So here, I’ll just put your name on this here, and then you and your friends can go and take all the pictures you like. Did you bring any props?”

“All in here,” she says. She goes to pat the bag before thinking better of it and nods at it instead. “I wouldn’t call them props really. Just bits and pieces of stuff from my room. My paintbrushes, a flag, my stuffed animals.” She gives a shrug. “I’m only sad I couldn’t bring my dog with me too.”

“Trust me, you are not alone,” he says. “Anyway I’ll leave you to it… and I assume these are your friends?”

Janis blinks and turns around, finding Cady rushing up to her side, Damian just behind.

“Hey,” Cady greets, about to go for a hug.

“Woah, woah, I am holding possibly the most expensive piece of equipment in this hospital right now,” Janis says. She goes for a little half-hug instead, and it works just as well.

“Sorry,” Cady says. “Just excited. This actually seems really cool.”

“Really, really cool,” Damian chimes in. “They’ve got a proper modelling shoot going on over there.” Another flash goes off just as he tells them, and Janis can vaguely make out a girl standing pouting against a wall.

“Well you know what we’re like in here,” Janis says. “Any chance we have to get dolled up and pretty, we jump for it.”

“There’s a Zodiac joke in there but I’m not sure if it’s offensive or not to make it.”

“Okay, you joke about that,” Janis jokes. “But I’ve met three people in this ward alone who are actually Cancers! Crazy right?”

“Sure sounds it,” Cady says before clasping their hands together, looking around the room expectantly. “So… do you have a plan of action here?”

“I do indeed, Caddy.” She fiddles with the camera for a second before finding the strap and throwing it around her neck, leaving her other hand free to hold out to Cady. She takes it with a grin. “Let’s go my little poppets.”

She pulls them into a corner, away from the bigger action, and kneels down on the floor, the other two following suit.

“Okay so I kind of have this thing planned out,” she explains. “This whole thing is about showing the ‘person behind the cancer’, right? Like you know, show how we’re still… people. Individuals, right?”

“Noble cause,” Damian says as Janis opens her bag. Realisation dawns on his face as she does so.

“So I just brought a bunch of stuff that’s important to me,” she finishes.

“Do we count as stuff that’s important to you?” Cady teases, already knowing the answer.

“You two are my most important stuff,” she says, dropping a kiss onto Cady’s nose. She looks between the two of them, awkwardness slowly building up in her. “So I kind of wanted some photos of me like… drawing and stuff. You know, what I’d normally do.” She shrugs, a timid grin tugging on her lips. “And you two can play photographer for this part.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Damian says.

“I also want photos with you two,” she adds. “A lot of pictures with you two. They said… like I’m not sure exactly but they said that they’d put up some of everyone’s work on the walls but we’d also get to keep all our own ones in this little book thing they’ll make for us. I don’t know, I’ve probably explained this to you before.”

“You did, sort of,” Cady says, tucking her hair behind her ears and straightening her shoulders. “Okay, so why don’t we start with some shots of you drawing? It’s sort of you in your natural habitat after all.” She looks over at Damian, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Uh… Damian? Do you mind if I use the camera first?”

“Oh, does someone like the big shiny toy?” Janis teases.

“Do I mind?” Damian says at the exact same time. “Young child, you take as many photos as you want.” Janis hands the camera off to Cady, her heart admittedly picking up a little as she does so. “Meanwhile, I want to play director.”

“Director?” Janis echoes, looking over at an equally confused Cady.

“Yes, director,” he says. “Well you can’t expect to model yourself do you?”

“Jerk,” she says, grinning even so. She sits up and shakes her head, tossing imaginary hair over her shoulders. “Okay genius. Sculpt me.”

That’s all the incentive Damian needs. He climbs over to her as she gets her sketchbook and pencils out of her bag. She tries not to let him see how much emptier her book is compared to last year’s. If he does notice he doesn’t show it even as she opens on a half-finished drawing. He pokes at her and turns her head as she fights off her laughter, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

“This lighting is terrible,” he declares.

“What lighting?” she asks, gesturing to the window. “The sun?”

“Yes. The sun is terrible. Fuck the sun.”

“I remember the myth of Icarus slightly differently to you it seems,” Janis says.

“Okay, okay, now just move that pretty little head of yours down by a millimetre,” he says. “And… perfection. All yours Cady.”

Cady mumbles something that sounds like ‘finally’ before the flash goes off in Janis’ vision.

“You know your way around that thing,” Janis comments when she’s sure they’ve finished. Cady shrugs, a proud grin on her face.

“Back in Kenya I took some photos of the animals,” she explains. “Research purposes, you know?”

“Indeed. So do I look good here?” she asks.

“See for yourself.” Cady fiddles with it for a bit and turns it towards her. Janis’ breath hitches when she sees it. She picked a good one, and Damian did a good job too; she sits with her book balanced between her knees, her fingers fiddling with the pencil. The light that Damian hated so badly drapes across her, chasing away the pale complexion she’s become used to. She has this faraway look about her, lost in her artwork, just the way she loves to be.

“Oh I do look good,” she says.

“Do you want a moment alone with the camera?” Damian asks, an eyebrow raised. She gives him a tiny flip off before pulling herself up, her muscles groaning just slightly. At least everything is sitting still for her today. That coffee she took must have been better than she thought. They take a couple more of her posing, looking wistfully out the window, Purrlock sitting on her lap, throwing peace signs up at the camera.

“Okay, I know what I want to shoot next.” There’s a little bit of a buzz about her as she pulls her next thing out of her bag; her pride flag. She still remembers the day she got it; she was 14 and practically shoved it across the counter of the little store in New York, the unplanned purchase that turned into her most cherished possession. She wraps it around herself now, the flimsy, thin fabric wrapping around her like a trusted blanket and grins at them.

“I love it,” Damian says as Cady snaps a picture of her again and again, her trying out a million different poses, being silly, being serious, trying and failing to be sexy, hoisting it in the air like a flag. When she asked about it, Cassie had told her to bring props that meant something to her, that showed who she really is inside. Of course her flag was one of the first things that came to mind.

“Hey, Caddy,” she says when the flashing subsides for a moment. “You brought yours too, right?”

“Yeah,” they reply. “I just brought the little one, though I don’t really get it…. Oh.” Realisation dawns on Cady’s face, lighting it up from the inside out. Janis opens her arms to her, laughing as she struggles to pull her own flag out of her backpack. After a bit of deliberating, she hangs the bag and the camera to Damian, who swings the former up on his shoulder, and rushes over to Janis, the colours of her bi flag meshing into a blur. When she crashes into Janis’ body, her head smacking into her chin and her waist, that’s when Damian decides to take the picture.

“Hey!” she snaps. “No fair, we weren’t ready!”

“But you looked so cute!” he squeaks, rolling his eyes when Janis gives him a pointed look. “Okay, okay, fine. Get into poses you little lovebirds.”

Cady’s head settles on her shoulder, her flag circling the both of them as she puts her arm around them, her cheek coming to rest against her hair. Cady’s free hand circles around her waist and slides into her pocket, her touch warm against her skin. Despite Damian’s wording, it doesn’t feel like a pose. It feels so, so natural, just like breathing.

She presses her lips to Cady’s head and feels her smiling against her just as the camera goes off again.

“God you two are so cute,” Damian sighs. She swears she sees his eyes misting over, overly sentimental monster that he is. Even if he tries to shake it off and pretend to be the tough guy. “It reminds me that I’m single and lonely.”

“And ready to mingle!” Janis reminds him. Cady’s hand trails off her waist and takes her hand, fingers laced together, and Janis swings their hands between them. “Okay I have one more idea… and I need the two of you in it.”

“Okay, then who’s taking the picture?” Damian asks, his eyes scanning the room for someone, as if they’ll come rushing over to help them. And around here that is often the case, but not today, what with all the nurses enjoying their momentary break. Janis shakes her head instead, a gleam in her eye.

“We are,” she says simply before grabbing Damian’s hand and pulling him closer. “Old school style.”

Getting into position for this isn’t easy, especially not with the two of them being so much taller than Cady and Janis feeling extra cautious around the camera. Bubbly lover of life that she is, Cady initially tires jumping on Damian, and he actually does manage hold her up, even if they do wobble a little. The two laugh at themselves and then each other, the sound so light and musical that it makes Janis’ heart swell. She snaps a quick photo of them, remembering to turn the flash off. It might not have been planned, but when she looks at it, a moment frozen just for her, she’s so glad she caught it.

“Hey Janis come over here!” Damian calls, Cady’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Or are you just going to sit there and look at yourself all day?”

“I’m coming, jerk,” she sighs, running over and kneeling beside him. Cady’s hand comes and rests on the back of her neck; she guesses it’s equal parts affection and trying to keep herself steady. Janis stretches her arm out as far as she can, the screen turned so they can see their themselves, laughing and helpless, fighting for a spot in the frame. Their backs slowly start to hurt, their cheeks aching from so much smiling.

“Have you got this?” Cady asks. “It’s fine if you don’t, I’m comfortable up here.”

“Speak for yourself you little twerp,” a red-faced Damian gasps.

“Okay, okay, okay there we are!” Janis says, tapping the floor in excitement when she sees all three of their faces in the frame. “Okay we only have this for a millisecond so say cheese you two! Three, two, one!”

After the shutter goes off they collapse on the floor, the sound of their laughter echoing off the polished walls. Nurses run over to help them, no doubt on alert seeing one of theirs on the floor seemingly suffocating, and the worst part is none of them can catch their breath long enough to tell them that they’re okay. All it takes is one to look at another and their progress in fixing themselves is gone; they’re one again reduced to cackling messes on the foyer floor.

 _God_ , Janis thinks as she sits up, pulling Cady into a sitting position beside her and hugging her close. What would she do without these two?

Later that evening, Damian is draped across her bed, flicking through her mom’s magazine. The three of them had hung out as much as they could when they had finished up, but Cady had been pulled out of it by her phone reminding her of another tutoring session.

“I’m sorry,” she had sighed. “It’s not normally on today, but they were sick so we had to reschedule. I should have moved it earlier, I didn’t think-”

“Nuh-uh, Heron,” Janis told her, tapping her nose. “Don’t you go apologising for your magnificent service to the North Shore community.” Cady scrunches up her face at that. “Besides, you’re probably bringing the average of the entire school up and I don’t want Mrs Norbury coming for me when her classes start failing again.”

“She never would,” she said. They paused for a moment, stuck in a half-embrace, until Damian took the hint and turned his attention to the outside of Janis window. Satisfied, Cady stood up on her tiptoes and pressed their lips to Janis’ in a sweet kiss. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“I had hoped so,” she murmured against her, sneaking another peck. She rubbed her nose against Cady’s, debating whether or not she should convince her to stay. Eventually she let her go, squeezing her hand one more time and promising to text her tomorrow before she left.

And now she’s here, munching on a cereal bar and scribbling in the corner of her sketchbook. All day, but especially since Cady left, her new development had hung around her mind, never really leaving and letting her have peace. The mere idea of not telling Damian just doesn’t sit right with her at all. Not just because he’d know if she kept something from him anyway. He’s given up so much because of this, all for her.

The question is how does she tell him? It’s not like it’s a ‘sit down and take a deep breath’ kind of moment, but it’s not something she wants to brush off either. It’s important, and she’d be stupid not to recognise that. After pondering on it, she finds just being blunt seems to be the best approach, so she taps his shoulder, opens her mouth and-

“So I have a thing next week.”

 _Wow_ she thinks. _That went well._ She guesses she put way too much faith in her communication abilities there.

“A thing?” he asks, turning to look at her. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s…” She clears her throat. “It’s a bone marrow aspiration.”

“Oh.” He turns around to face her then, his eyes wide with concern as he nods seriously. She lets out a snort in response, her demeanour the opposite of his.

“You have no clue what that is, do you?”

“I know what bone marrow is,” he replies. He picks at his nails, his jaw setting. “And I guess it’s about you. Your cancer, I mean.”

“It’s to see how well I’ve progressed since getting in here,” she tells him, her voice more quiet than she thought it would be. She shrugs weakly as he takes it in, growing only slightly worried at how quiet he is. “Just to check everything’s working like it should.”

“And are you…” He waves his hand in the air. “Confident about it?”

The question takes her by surprise. She had never really thought about it as a question of confidence. Confidence is for her the things she has control over; her friendships, her art, her future. Not for this.

“It’s not really up to me, is it?” she says with a shrug. “I mean I’ve been doing everything I should be doing. Guess all we can do right now is hope.” Damian nods again, his hands clasped in his lap almost like he’s praying. Silence stretches out between them, marked only by the ticking of the clock, and it’s unsettling. They’ve had their fair share of heart-to-hearts, but they’ve always ended with jokes and smiles, holding hands and resting on each other, one holding the other up. Now he’s sitting away from her, his eyes unreadable. “Damian?” asks after a long while.

“You’ll be fine.” He looks up then with a fierce determination in his eyes, his voice stronger than she’s ever heard it. Not even onstage has she ever seen him like this. “You will be.”

She takes a deep breath. That’s what everyone tells her; her doctors, her parents. It’s what she tells herself, really. That she’s been doing everything right, and with the way this medicine is kicking her ass, it has to be working. And she wants to believe that she’ll be fine, that everything will be as it should be. But that’s what she thought the first time around too. If there’s one thing she’s learned by now, it’s to not take things for granted.

And it hurts seeing him like this. It hurts seeing him believe something so much when she can’t guarantee it. She remembers clear as day the first time she told him, the two of them alone in her bedroom, how it tore at her heart to tell him. How much it had crushed him. How does she stop that from happening again?

She shuffles towards him, her heart crawling up her mouth, and takes his hand, finding it as cold and clammy as her own is.

“Damian,” she whispers. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

It’s only when she sniffles she realises she’s started crying.

“I think this will be okay,” she tells him. “I think when I go in and I do that test, I think those results will say I’m doing good. That’s what the doctor thinks.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “But if it’s not-”

“Janis-”

“Can you just listen to me?” she asks. When he closes his mouth, lips pressed into a thin line, she continues. “But if it isn’t, I need you to promise me you’ll be okay with it. That you aren’t going to worry about me every day. That you’re going to go ahead and live.” She wipes at her face. “Just be okay for me. Promise me that.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay when you’re okay.”

“No.” She shifts onto her knees, looking him right in the eye. “Listen to me, Damian. You need to promise that whatever happens to me, you aren’t going to fall apart.” His hand comes up and he laces their fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you weren’t okay and it was because of me.” She pokes his cheek and wipes his tears off his face. “So just promise me that… in the unlikely event that it’s not what we want to hear… you won’t fall apart.”

It feels like a lifetime before he nods too, his own eyes wet and glistening under the lights. He then pulls her into a wordless hug, her fragile body held in his strong arms, his hand running up and down her back. She lets out a shuddering breath and it feels like weeks’ worth of frustration and loneliness and downright misery is let out as well, all as she melts into his arms.

“God you really know how to kill a mood, don’t you, Sarkisian?” he whispers and she finally laughs. “Here, I got you something.”

She pulls away from him just enough for him to reach into his pocket and produce a candy bar packed in a silver wrapper, one she vaguely recognises but can’t place.

“Courtesy of Maisie,” he says. She lifts it carefully, treating it with the utmost care. “From her Halloween haul. You should be real grateful; she doesn’t give that up lightly.”

“I am,” she says, a slight laugh in her voice. “Tell her that for me, okay?” He nods as she pulls it out of the wrapper and breaks it in half, holding one out to him. She raises an eyebrow when he shakes his head. “Come on, you deserve it too.” She looks up at his head, hidden under a rainbow coloured beanie. “You said I wasn’t going through this alone. And that includes the good parts too.”

He rolls his eyes but takes it all the same, a smile on his face that’s as soft as his soul is. She turns so that they sit hip to hip and her head can rest on his shoulder, their hands clasped between them, eating in companionable silence, sharing the occasional smile.

It’s not that she isn’t worried, she is. That foreboding feeling won’t leave her alone and she’s given up on trying. It’s just that when she’s sitting here with him holding his hand, the black cloud doesn’t seem as close as it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make a happy writer, and a happy writer is a productive writer <3


	15. Janis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the angst tag really takes off, if it hasn't already been in the past 14 chapters

If there’s one thing Janis has learned about herself throughout this entire experience, it’s that she really hates hospital gowns. It’s definitely not the self-revelation she expected to be having during this process, but life is weird like that, and she’s sitting in an unfamiliar room changing into the thing and thinking about how much she dislikes them. The flimsy material makes her feel like she’s not even wearing anything and she feels drowned and lost in it. Finding the arm and head holes was an adventure in itself, trying to work out what was fabric and what wasn’t. She knows that they’re not exactly built for fashionable purposes, but damn would it kill the American Medical Society to give some shape to this thing so she doesn’t feel like the ghost of a little Victorian girl?

And that’s not even touching on the fact that it refuses to stay closed at the back, because that’s not something she wants to spend even five seconds thinking about.

They only have one useful function she thinks, putting aside all their medical uses because she can’t understand or really bring herself to care about those. The only part of this thing that actually seems beneficial is the way she can slip Purrlock into it undetected. He sits against her shoulder now, hidden by the collar, his paws soft against her shoulder and his nose rubbing against her skin. It’s a comforting presence, one she desperately needs right now. The clock behind her ticks closer to 3 o’clock, the time Doctor Wiley agreed to schedule their appointment for.

She swallows past the lump in her throat and presses her hands against the bed in an attempt to get some heat into them. She won’t kid herself, not now, not after everything she’s been through with herself. She’s not scared of pain. She wouldn’t be even if she hadn’t been assured she’d hardly feel anything. She’s just scared about what comes afterwards. Because no amount assurances from her doctor or any nurses can settle that feeling that has clung to her back and wrapped itself tightly around her soul.

She gives Purrlock one more squeeze before the doctor comes in, both her parents and a nurse in tow, all of them having left her to give her some privacy. It’s not Doctor Wiley doing it, and she can’t decide how that makes her feel. It would have been a lot better to have a familiar face doing this for her.

Her own clothes are folded on a chair beside her, except her hat. That stays on, she decided, no matter what.

“Are you ready Janis?” the doctor asks. She’s pretty, with lovely eyes and one of those smiles that should be soothing, but it isn’t doing anything for her.

“Yep.” She winces when she hears her voice cracking. Her throat feels like sandpaper but she feels too worked up to ask for water. Besides, she doesn’t want anything to put this off. The sooner she’s in, the sooner she’s out.

Purrlock’s presence remains steadfast as her vitals are checked, her blood pressure, her heart rate, and she pulls herself up on the table, turning onto her side as instructed. She doesn’t know if anyone else can see it, but nothing she does feels like it’s her own body. Rather it feels like she’s watching someone else doing the movements for her. Like her brain has been taken over and she’s just along for the ride.

“Okay, we’re going to numb the area now, okay?” the nurse asks. “You might feel a little pain.” She nods minutely, her thumb stroking Purrlock becoming faster. If anyone wonders what she’s doing with her hand inside her gown, they don’t ask. The nurse wipes something cold across her skin before there’s a little prick there, barely enough for her to register it.

She avoids her parents’ eyes as they sit down next to her. She won’t say it, but she wishes they weren’t here. The weight of their gaze that they try to make supportive only makes her more uncomfortable. She doesn’t want to have to put on a brave face now.

“Okay, there we go.” The doctor’s voice comes in, a little more cold and mechanical than Janis would have liked. “That’s all working well. Can you feel anything there?” Seconds, or minutes, pass without her saying anything, and Janis realises she’s probably poking at her back.

“Um, yeah, I mean no, I can’t feel anything.” She wraps her hand around her cat and tries to take a deep breath.

“So I’m going to put it in now, okay?”

That’s when Janis’ blood goes from being cold to being pure ice, stiffening over her chest and stopping her from breathing properly. Oh god what’s the procedure for having a panic attack right now?

“Okay.” Her voice is so small and weak that it doesn’t even sound like her. Not even in her darkest moments has she ever felt as powerless as this.

She lets out a small gasp as a sharp sting attacks her back and her free hand curls into the mattress, her face screwing up as a small whimper escapes her as well. It’s over quickly, but she feels the sensation lingering on her skin.

Screw her image, she thinks, and she takes Purrlock out and holds him against her chest. Her parents are probably sighing at her right now, half-pitying looks on their faces, but she has her eyes trained on the wall behind them instead.

She doesn’t know how much longer it takes, not bothering to count anything. All she knows is her own breathing, making them last for as long as she can and trying to blank out anything else, even her own thoughts. She just clutches Purrlock harder, her other hand twisted into the mattress until the pressure on her back finally eases up.

“Okay… and we’re done,” the doctor says. “You’re going to need to keep laying there for about ten minutes or so, just to make sure everything’s okay down there. Make sure you keep pressure on it, okay?.”

Janis nods slowly, flexing her fingers just to check. She made it. She’s still here. Them, as her mouth slowly curls into a smirk, she mumbles “that’s what she said”, just loud enough for her parents to hear.

Her dad laughs at that. Her mom slaps him for it.

She turns onto her back, letting out a quick sigh as she gets off her side, and shakes out her arm, stiff from laying underneath her for all that time. Then curiosity begins to take over, so she shifts slightly and slides her hand beneath her, her fingers coming across a bandage across her lower back far wider than she would have thought.

“Hey.” Her dad slaps her arm lightly, raising his eyebrow at her. “You’re meant to be applying pressure to that spot.”

“I am,” she sighs, wriggling her hand out of it. She presses her body into the mattress to prove her point. “I just wanted to see what was there.”

“You can look at your war wounds all you like later, okay?” he tells you.

“Do you need anything?” her mom asks. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you some water if you need it-”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m okay, really. Just bored.” And tired, but she leaves that one out. She leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling, squinting at the light glaring into her eyes. “Can you pass me my phone?” She does so, and Janis immediately swipes past every message she’s received since this morning and ignores any and all social media in favour of scrolling through pictures of her dad. After a minute, she turns it on airplane mode, even if no-one has actually texted her yet, just in case. It’s too early to let people contact her. She needs mor distance between herself and what just happened before she can even process it, let alone tell someone about it.

Her back still kind of hurts when she gets back to her own room, enough for her to manage but still. She crawls onto the bed, the short walk through the hall having depleted whatever energy she had to begin with, and barely remembers to actually get under the covers. She’s asleep just moments after her head hits the pillow, her toy cat still clutched to her chest.

*****

She goes home that Friday; the two days having dragged out into what felt more like two weeks. The whole time she felt bogged down with anticipation, her head snapping up every time her door so much as opened or Doctor Wiley passed her in the hall. Every moment was so fraught with anxiety that she could barely sit still, despite the weariness seeped into her bones. The combination alone made left her nauseous and even though she could blame it on the meds, there was always that feeling lurking just below the surface or lingering in the back of her mind. She can fake it to everyone else all she wants but she can’t lie to herself. All she can do is wait. The problem is that’s the last thing she wants to do.

Still, she’s home now, and at least she can sink into her own couch and stroke her dog and try to detach herself from the past week. It isn’t easy, especially with the painkillers her mom picked up, but the change of scenery at least does something for her. She curls up even more, pressing as much of her body as she can into the cushions, as her mom sets her sandwich down in front of her. She rubs her cheek before she goes and Janis does her best to keep herself from pulling away, even managing a smile for her. She’s getting better at this whole thing.

“You feeling okay kid?” her dad asks as he comes in.

“Fine,” she replies through a yawn. “Back hurts but that’s nothing new.” Her dad hums in agreement, turning his attention to the TV, but his hand curls into a fist by his side, his jaw clenching just enough for her to notice and more than enough to make her stomach clench. She’s not the only one waiting for results and despite their best efforts to hide them, her parents’ anxieties are just as much a part of the house as the walls and floors are.

Her mom shares a look with her dad as she sits down on the arm of the chair, her fingers running through his hair, and something else in twists in Janis’ gut. Her parents are entitled to their privacy, just like any other person, but when it’s a private discussion about her, it doesn’t sit right with her. She hasn’t quite faded to nothing yet, and she sure as hell can pick up on those silent conversations that pass between them, all worried glances and quiet touches. She doesn’t know what they say exactly, but she knows that it’s always about her and it makes her want to throw something at the wall.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” she announces, breaking through the tight silence that had fallen over the living room. She pushes herself up, wincing again at the ache in her back, and that of course sets off an alarm for her parents. They half-stand, arm extended and eyes wide, the exact same pose as though they’re actually the same person. Janis pulls her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m okay. Really. I can make it up the stairs by myself.”

“If you’re sure,” her mom says, nervousness lining the edge of her voice. “Are you going to eat your sandwich though?”

“Oh.” She turns and quickly retrieves it from the couch, spinning back around just in time to see relief flood her mom’s face. “I’ll see you guys later.”

She doesn’t go straight upstairs though. Instead she turns the corner and lingers outside the door, her ears straining and her body pressed flat against the wall. From there, she holds her breath and waits, though for what she isn’t quite sure. She doesn’t work it out either, because seconds and then minutes pass, and the only sounds she hears are her own breathing and the faint voices on the TV. If they are going to talk about her, it isn’t happening now. And so she turns on her heel again and heads upstairs this time, closing her bedroom door tightly behind her.

Much like she did a few days ago, she crawls onto her bed, groaning against the flash of pain in her joints. She can’t be bothered to actually pull the covers over herself, so she stretches and grabs a blanket from the foot of her bed and tangles herself in that instead. Her bag sits by the foot of her bed and she tells herself she’ll unpack it later, even though her definition of later has become much more broad than it used to be. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and lays it beside her, the screen so dark and shiny that her face is reflected in it, albeit stretched and distorted.

She finally worked up the nerve to talk to Damian last night, sitting in the armchair next to her bed. Granted, he had texted her first, but she had answered, and that had seemed impossible this week. What’s more, she told him mostly everything he’d want to know about the procedure. She had embellished a little, making herself sound braver than she had been really, and she doesn’t know whose benefit that was for. But what matters to her is that she told someone, and that he seemed fairly okay with it. Maybe he’s making good on that promise he made to her.

She lets out a long sigh, her throat growing tighter when she thinks back on that exchange. The way he had looked at her, the tears shining in his eyes. Desperate for a solid answer she can’t give him. She wants nothing more than to wake up tomorrow morning and to tell him and everyone else that she’s back to normal. That there’s no more hospitals or medicines and she can go back to school. Or better yet, to wake up tomorrow and for this all to have been a horrific dream. Unfortunately for her, the past weeks have drained all that stupid naïve hope out of her, and so the last thing she feels before she drifts off is the pit of uncertainty sitting heavily in her stomach.

******

She’s not much better by the next day, physically or mentally. She feels it even before she wakes up; it’s crawled up and over her like ivy over an old brick house. She wakes up in the late morning with her brain feeling like static and her vision half-blurred, buried beneath her blanket and her clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them. Against her better judgement, she rolls over, half-sits up on her elbows and blinks rapidly until her eyes adjust to the half-light of her bedroom. Her parents must have come in at some point last night, because the curtains are closed and her room is significantly less messy than it was last night. Either it was her parents or she’s taken to sleep-cleaning.

The next time she wakes up its past noon, and regardless of how much she’d like to just stay here until her brain fixes itself, she figures that the least thing she could do is show her face to her parents and announce that she hasn’t died or become a vegetable since they last saw her.

Her train of thought stops there and a coldness washes over her despite her sweater and leaves goosebumps on her skin.

She pulls on her discarded beanie and a pair of fuzzy socks and heads downstairs, finding Maxie sitting at the bottom and springing to life upon seeing her, tail wagging and eyes bright. She smiles, albeit just a little bit.

“Hey buddy,” she tells him softly, scratching behind his ears. “Either you’re really happy to see me or you really need to tinkle.”

She lets him follow her into the kitchen, counting on her parents to let him out if it’s the latter.

“Morning kid,” her dad greets from the table, a newspaper spread out in front of him. “Was just about to get worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” She reaches up and grabs the first box of cereal she finds down from the cupboard. “Just tired.” The box feels heavier than it should as she heads over and grabs a bowl. “Where’s Mom?”

“Oh she’s out meeting some of her friends for coffee,” he explains. “You know. Girl time.”

“Girl time,” she agrees with a nod. She thinks, but doesn’t say, that it’s good for her to be getting out. It’s not really a conversation she wants to have with her dad, not with where it could lead to, but it’s true all the same.

Just as she’s starting her breakfast (or lunch, really), there’s a knock at the door; a fast, sharp rap, probably on the glass. Janis looks over at her dad, finding him just as lost as she is. Apparently neither one of them were expecting visitors. He shrugs and goes off to answer it, probably expecting a neighbour or relative. They’ve been coming over almost every week now, bearing baskets or bags full of treats, for them. Fresh pastries, baskets of fruit, home-cooked dinners ready to stick in the oven. All out of the goodness of their hearts. Janis only hangs around for a little while in those cases, just enough to answer the basic questions, before finding some excuse to slip out. Nine times out of ten, it’s more her parents’ friends than hers anyway.

“Janis?” her dad calls from the door. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” she mutters. She sighs and heads down the hall, taking the cereal with her, perplexed as to who could be calling for her. Damian doesn’t even need to knock anymore and Cady always texts before they come round. Maybe it’s just another classmate, someone she got along with like Sonja or Sophie. That’d be nice, she supposes.

She stops dead in her tracks the minute the person comes into view. Her dad stands to the side, his eyes on her, and standing in the doorway is Regina George. Regina George is at her house, clad in a white sweater and blue jeans, a silver bag across her body and a Tupperware box in her hand. Her hair falls just to her chin, rather than in the long waves everyone knows her by, but that’s nothing more than a footnote in Janis’ brain. Regina George is at her front door. Alone. And an invisible force has flung her right back to that middle school yard, complete with everyone staring at her and her heart fit to burst right out of her chest.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks sharply. Regina blinks, taken aback by the venom in her voice, and disgust curls in her gut. Maybe there was some freak lacrosse accident and Regina tragically lost her memory from middle school onwards. That’s the only reason she can think of as to why she would be surprised by this, because otherwise she should know that they are not friends.

“Hey,” she says. “I um… I made some pastries and I thought-”

“I don’t take charity,” she says. Heat rises in her cheeks. She may have promised to play nice for Cady’s sake, but Cady isn’t here. No one is, and even though she’s in her own home, she feels more vulnerable than she has in years. It’s not a good feeling and she fights it off with every defensive tactic she knows. “Not from you.”

“Okay,” she sighs and Janis’ fist clenches. She wonders if she could still take her in a fight in her current condition and decides that yes, she most definitely could. This cereal bowl for example could do some serious damage to her face if she throws it hard enough. “Janis… can we talk?”

“Excuse you?”

“Can we talk?” she repeats, exasperation creeping into her voice. Oh the audacity, Janis thinks. “Just for a minute?”

She takes a step back. She doesn’t want to talk to her, that much is clear. She doesn’t really want to talk to anyone but if she did, Regina would be the exception. And just her being here in her house is flipping every switch Janis has, her nerves buzzing and an electrical current surging through her. And she knows Regina, and she seldom wants to just talk. There were a lot of times in the past where she “just wanted to talk” that ended in her getting her way and Janis feeling winded. It would be immensely satisfying for her to slam that door in her surprised little face, and then open it just enough to take the pastries off her and slam the door again. And then dump the pastries for good measure.

But… she can’t say that her curiosity isn’t piqued. The fact that Regina took the effort to make pastries and take them all the way to her own house as a kind of… what, peace offering? Does Regina do peace offerings? How many people can say they’ve had Regina come to them?

This is a once in a lifetime event, and yes, maybe she’d like to see where this goes. And that’s the reason why, even as every part of her screams ‘no, no, no!’ she says, “Fine.”

Her dad raises his eyebrows at her as Regina walks past him, silently screaming “what the hell is wrong with you?” at her. She’s asking herself that same question. Maybe those pain killers are more effective than she thought. Even as he takes the Tupperware box off Regina, his eyes don’t leave her, asking for an answer or an explanation or for her to blink twice if she needs help.

Regina stands in a middle of them, wringing her hands.

“We can talk in my room,” Janis tells her. “You remember where it is?” Regina nods. “Good, go one up, I’ll be there in a second.” She opens her mouth, probably to ask what she meant, but thinks better and closes it before turning around and heading up there. The idea of Regina in her room makes her skin crawl, but she wants her out of sight and earshot for now. She waits until she hears her door opening and closing and, fighting back a shudder, she says, “Dad… if we’re not done in ten minutes?”

“Come and get you?”

“I was going to say, ‘assume that I have thrown her out the window’,” she says. “But you know, that works too I guess.”

Her dad nods, a hint of a smile on his face, but his eyes are serious.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks her. “I mean… you hate this girl. You have good reason to as well.” There’s a bitterness in his voice that makes Janis smile, ironic as that is. She feels less alone in it. But she crosses her arms over her chest and gives a small nod.

“I do…. But you just have to trust me on this,” she tells him. “I have my reasons. Besides, I can play the cancer card any time I want her to leave.”

“You’re a terrible child,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies. “I’ll blame it on her influence.”

When she gets up to her room, Regina is standing at her wall, studying one of the paintings on it. It’s one of hers from sophomore year, and Regina looking at it makes her wince.

“Hey.” She jumps nearly three feet at the sound of her voice and manages to compose herself relatively quickly. Janis closes the door behind her and whacks on the light. “So go on. You wanted to talk.”

“I did,” she says. She pulls at her sweater and straightens it out, the gesture looking so unnatural on her that it actually scares her a little. Since the second they met, Regina has exuded a confidence Janis could only aspire to. Even after everything fell apart, Janis had to admire that part of her. Even if it was faked, it was convincing. Now she’s standing in front of her, all nervous eyes and fidgeting fingers and somehow her biting her lip in anxiety scares Janis more than her cruel smirks ever did.

“So are you going to?” she asks. “Talk, I mean. Or are you just going to stand there like a dumbass?”

Regina laughs-actually laughs-and nods and lifts her chin and looks her in the eye and after what feels like a lifetime she says

“Janis… I wanted to say that I’m so sorry-”

“No.”

Regina blinks, looking like a deer aught in headlights. Janis simply stares her down, betting that this wasn’t how she thought this interaction was going to go down and yeah maybe getting soe petty satisfaction out of that, what about it?

“W-what?”

“You heard me,” she shrugs, a grin tugging on her lips. There’s a power stirring inside her that she hasn’t felt in months, probably not since she stood up on that table in the gym and finally let rip. It lights up inside her, igniting every part of her tired body and running through like wildfire. Even if it’s not enough to block out why she’s really annoyed about it, she can still stand and revel in the image of Regina standing across from her in complete uncertainty. That’s what makes the next word taste so sweet on her lips. “No.”

Regina’s mouth opens and then closes it again, annoyance slowly creasing her face. Janis continues eating her cereal as if Regina isn’t even here.

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” she says. “I can say it in French if you like but it’s more or less the same thing.”

For a second, there’s a flash of the old Regina, appalled that someone dared to stand up to her and crush the dream she had in her pretty little head. Weirdly, Janis finds she had missed that Regina, even it’s more of a comfortable familiarity than anything else. Ironically, Regina at her most bitchy is Regina at her most safe.

“I… don’t… get it,” Regina says, the words drawn out as she tries to connect the dots in her mind. “Why no?”

Janis sets the bowl down on her nightstand, the bang echoing off her walls. As she folds her arms, her nails dig into the skin and her whole body shakes with the effort of holding herself back from throwing herself at Regina. Or from holding back the tears that prickle at the back of her eyes. Either one.

She could lie. It would be easy to do so, especially to her. It wouldn’t even be a lie, just an omitted truth. But for whatever reason, she doesn’t feel like doing it.

“Because…” She steadies her shoulders and takes a deep breath. “Because you’re only apologising because of my cancer.” Her voice stayed surprisingly steady the whole way through, but they both hear the crack at the end. “And the one thing worse than a fake apology from you is a pity apology.”

“Janis,” she says. Her face softens and Janis wants to rip it right off. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me-”

“Correct. And so I don’t.”

“But it’s not because of….” She swallows hard. “Because of that. After the spring fling and over the summer I did a lot of soul searching and-”

“Regina I cannot begin to tell you how much I do not give a flying fuck about your soul searching,” she says flatly. She sighs and shakes out her hands, trying to get some feeling back into them. Feeling she’s buried for years come flooding back to her, blooming up from every corner of her soul and settling under her skin. All that resentment and anger that always simmered below the surface comes to a boiling point. “I don’t want you to apologise to me when you’re not fucking sorry.” She shakes her head, finding a bitter smile on her face. “I’ll tolerate a lot but you treating me like an idiot isn’t one of them. I would have thought you knew me better than that.”

“Well we haven’t exactly been close lately,” she mumbles. Her lips roll into a thin line, her finger tapping away at her forearm as she thinks. “You’re never going to believe me are you?”

“Nope. Not unless you strip naked and run up and down this street in order to prove it to me.”

“Pretty sure that would get me arrested.”

“Yeah well, that would be an added bonus.” She nods at that, a suppressed smile on her lips. She goes to move forwards but thinks better of it and stays where she is.

She doesn’t want to believe her. Hell, she doesn’t want to. Regina will never really understand the extent of the crap she went through. She doesn’t know about her puking at 4am, about those nights where she looked up at the ceiling until her eyes burned, about how her soul diminished little by little every time she crossed the school gates. She doesn’t know how it wasn’t just Janis’ life she ruined; it was her parents’ too. She doesn’t know how long it took until she could stop flinching from people, stop worrying that every compliment was backhanded or that every invitation was a set-up for something ugly. She’ll never know and Janis is so sure that she won’t care either. She doesn’t want her apology and wouldn’t even if it was genuine.

But the worst part of all this is… part of her thinks it might be. And she has no idea why that’s the case. She knows that trusting Regina George is like picking up a wild snake and thinking it won’t bite you. She’s got bite marks to prove it. That’s exactly what makes all this so painful for her, this feeling deep in her gut that she can’t ignore no matter how many traumatic memories she buries it under.

She closes her eyes and prays she won’t regret this.

“You want to prove it to me?” she asks. “You want to prove that you’re sorry?” Regina nods, a hopeful spark in her eye that looks uncharacteristic, but also too genuine to be fake. Her stomach clenches as she speaks, the words battling through her teeth. “Tell me afterwards. Tell me when I’m healthy and I have hair and I don’t need people’s pity. That’s when you can tell me you’re sorry.”

“That might take a while.”

“No it won’t.” There’s a defensive edge in her voice that she hadn’t expected. If the way Regina’s eyebrows shoot up is anything to go by, that was a shock to both of them. “I had this test thing last week to check how things are. And that’ll prove that I’m nearly done.” She hopes Regina believes what she’s saying because she sure as hell doesn’t. “By December this whole thing will be over anyway. Then, if you’re still willing, you can come over here and grovel and beg for my forgiveness.” She raises her chin. “There’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Regina nods slowly, no doubt weighing up her proposal in her head. Regina George doesn’t take deals, she only makes them, and this role reversal is strange to both of them. And at least for Janis, there’s a small thrill involved here. The upper hand in regard to Regina isn’t an easy thing to come by.

“Deal.” She holds out her perfectly manicured hand and Janis, after a moment’s pause, takes it, finding it cold. “See you in a few months, Sarkisian.”

“And then afterwards we can go and ride some flying pigs,” she mumbles.

Regina huffs a laugh at that and before she can stop herself, Janis does the same.

She follows Regina downstairs, intending to see her out the door. The two of them are in a tight, prickly silence as they go, unsaid, unknown words floating in the air between them and neither one willing to act on them.

She feels her dad’s eyes on them as they reach the door.

“See you later then,” Regina says, the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. Janis only hums in some sort of agreement and even that doesn’t dissuade her.

“Say hey to Karen and Gretchen for me,” is her response, and Regina tells her she will.

She waits until she sees Regina walk down her driveway and actually disappear around the corner before allowing herself to feel relieved, to let it flood through and around her and to breathe properly and fully for the first time since she came over. She collapses face-first onto the sofa in the living room, much to her dad’s amusement.

“So how was it?” he asks.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know,” she says, not bothering to lift her head from the cushion. “Just your regular dramatic teen girl stuff.”

“Mm-hm.” She doesn’t need to look at him to know he doesn’t believe her, but he also doesn’t press on it. “Well, the good news is, she may be a scum-sucking fart-mouthed life ruiner, but the makes amazing pastries.”

“Dad!” Her head snaps up at that and the room tilts and dips before steadying again and the black dots fade. “You ate her pastries?”

“What was I supposed to do?” he asks. “Just leave a box of perfectly good pastries sitting the cupboard never to be eaten? They were screaming my name, Janis.”

“You could have burned them. You could have set them on fire. It would have been immensely therapeutic for me.”

“Are you telling me that instead of sending you to therapy, I could have just set things on fire and gotten the same result?” he asks. She nods, a sharp pain flaring up as she does so, and he bursts into laughter.

“Oh stop,” she sighs. She rests her head on the arm of the couch, pressing her forehead into it like it can absorb all her pain from her. “What are the flavours?”

“We’ve got two. One’s apple and one’s this pecan thing.”

“Damn that witch. Making flavours I love like that.”

“She’s a fiend indeed. So which do you want?”

Her defences stay up for a microsecond. The she shoots her hand out and metaphorically waves a white flag.

“Pecan please,” she asks. “And can we at least burn one of them?”

Her dad laughs, but he doesn’t say no either and she takes it for now.

******

When Janis wakes on Monday morning, it’s with a deep, deep pit in her stomach. She knows what today is before her brain is fully awake, even before her eyes are open. She goes back to the hospital today.

And there’s a very high chance her test results are sitting there waiting for her when she gets there.

She pulls the covers up over her head and burrows under them, pressing her head further into the pillow and trying to get back to sleep. It really shouldn’t be too hard, not when she’s fallen asleep in far less comfortable positions before, in far brighter and louder places than her bedroom. But once, this once, her body doesn’t give in, and sleep deserts her in record quick time. She’s facing the music today whether she likes it or not.

Her dad is coming with them today, he told her last night.

“I know nothing might be happening tomorrow,” he had told her. “But just in case, I don’t want to miss anything.”

And as they get into the car, Janis sliding into the back this time with her hospital bag beside her, she feels a heavy sense of déjà vu. Despite how it feels like centuries, it was only two months ago she was getting into this car, whispering goodbye to her house and this whole was beginning.

The uneasiness doesn’t lessen when they get out of the car, or when they ride into the elevator. Outside the windows, the sun struggles against the grey clouds, its light blocked out bit by bit. When they stop outside her floor, her breathing is coming in pants and her hands are clammy and sweaty no matter how many times she wipes them. She considers just turning and running, pictures herself swiping her mom’s keys and making a break for it, getting into the car and driving off. She’d never make it far, but it’s a nice fantasy to tide her over.

The whole place feels off, she thinks as they make their way to her room, trying to smile and nod at people, pretend it’s business as usual, pretend there isn’t a sense of dread gnawing away at her. By the time they get within spitting distance of her room, that uneasiness has taken her over entirely and it takes all her effort to keep herself walking straight and steady. It’s not that she wants to collapse into her bed anymore, it feels like it’s the only thing she’s capable of doing.

She doesn’t bother unpacking, but her mom on the other hand makes it her mission, filling the small cabinet with all her possessions, leaving her laptop on her tray table just as she likes it. None of them speak though, so the only sound is the cars outside and her mom bustling around.

It takes five minutes for Doctor Wiley to finally show up. And if Janis felt uneasy before, she feels pure, unfiltered panic injected straight into her veins at the sight of him. He clicks the door shut behind him and her heart stops beating.

“Janis,” he greets. “Mr and Mrs Sarkisian.”

“My test results,” she blurts out. She locks eyes with him, willing him to look at her by sheer force alone. “You have them, don’t you?”

He blinks at her, perhaps alarmed at her institution, but his head then moves in a slow nod and her hand clenches around the bedpost.

“Well?” she asks.

“Janis…” She bites back her cheek. The déjà vu from the car comes back again stronger, less like a memory and more like she’s travelled back in time. Her chest grows tighter than she thinks it’s possible. “We looked at your results and… it seems the treatments now aren’t enough.”

Not enough.

Not enough.

The past two months of her life weren’t enough. All the events she missed and the sleeping through days and the vomiting and the passing out and the losing her hair… none of that was enough. Nothing she’s done up until now has been enough. Her lost days pile up in front of her eyes and blow away like dust because they didn’t. Mean. Anything. Apparently.

She wants to scream all this at him, to ask him why he couldn’t work this out earlier and what the fuck these past weeks have been for if they haven’t been doing what they should have been doing and why she had to essentially lie to every person she cares about if it wasn’t working anyway. But her mouth stays closed, her hands by her side and her body on the bed. She feels more like a hollow statue than a real person, her veins empty and her brain blank.

“So… what does that mean?” her dad finally asks. The room had been silent for so long she had actually forgotten what a person actually speaking sounds like. She doesn’t dare look back at her parents, because she knows it would either kill her more or throw her the opposite direction and she’d lunge at Wiley and tear his skin off. Or she’d scream and scream until her throat was raw.

Maybe that would feel good.

“Well… the good news is that it’s not…. It’s not the worst news you could receive.”

 _Maybe not for you_ she silently tells him.

“What it does mean is that we’re going to have to extend your treatment here,” he says. “For another four weeks.”

Four weeks? What’s four weeks? She can’t even see past today. He could have said four weeks or four years and it wouldn’t have made a difference as far as she’s concerned.

“Four weeks,” her mom echoes. “So it would end…” Her voice trails off and it becomes a question rather than a statement.

“In January, rather than December,” he finishes. “And another thing… we think it might be better if Janis stayed here permanently rather than going home.”

“But…” It’s only when everyone’s eyes land on her that she realises she had actually spoken at all. She takes as deep a breath she can and goes on, her voice so, so small. “What about my dog?”

“Your dog?”

“My dog,” she explains. “Going home. It’s the only time I can see my dog.”

Somewhere in the very, very back of her mind, an impossibly tiny part of her is saying ‘really?’. But Maxie is all she can think to care about right now. Wiley’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly and he turns and looks to her parents for any kind of direction.

They get it, of course, and her mom’s hand comes up on her back.

“We’ll work something out,” she says. The softness of her voice makes her flinch. “We’ll work out a FaceTime with him. Okay, sweetheart?”

Through her tight throat, she manages to slip out an ‘okay’.

Wiley keeps talking, some spiel about optimism and close monitoring and priorities, but the words ricochet off her and fall meaninglessly onto the floor. If they really matter she’ll get told them again. Or not. She doesn’t really care and she’s not sure if she should be worried about that.

“Janis? Janis?” She blinks and Wiley is looking at her, eyes anxious behind his glasses, his mouth drawn into a grim line. “Do you have any questions.”

She does. A lot. The first one is ‘what the actual fuck’ but nobody probably has the answer for that. Most questions she has probably don’t have an answer, but there’s one she’s willing to try.

“I… Did I do something wrong?” she asks. “Is that why all of this didn’t work?”

“Oh my goodness, Janis, no.” Wiley rushes over to her, pulling the chair over and sitting opposite her. There’s so much determination in him that she almost believes him. “Listen… things like this happen. They happen more often than we’d like to admit. But they do.” He shrugs, looking pretty helpless for the person who is meant to be in charge of this. If he doesn’t know what’s happened, then where does that leave her. “Sometimes the cancer is just more aggressive than we first thought. And we need to redouble our efforts. It’s not your fault, Janis. Don’t ever think it is.”

He can’t tell her not to do that. She can’t tell her not to do that. No-one on this Earth can make her stop thinking that. But for his sake, and her parents, she nods and mutters something that sounds like an okay, and after he exchanges a few words with her parents, he leaves, off to tend to the dozens of other kids in his care.

Her body bounces slightly as her back hits the mattress. It’s a nice kind of feeling. It makes everything feel less real. Even more so when her head falls back and she looks at the world that way. She doesn’t bother moving, not even when her head starts to hurt and she starts feeling dizzy. Out of the corner of her eye, she feels her upside-down dad leaning against the wall, his cheeks puffed out as he exhales. She can only see her mom when she cranes her neck, leaning against the wall with her head on her dad’s shoulder.

“Janis, sweetheart are you okay?”

“Nope,” she sighs. She

“Of course she’s not okay.”

“It was just a question, Alex.”

That pulls her up, even if it’s only halfway. If there was a fight brewing her face stopped it, the tension between them fading into the background. Bigger problems and all that.

She is the bigger problem. Not really, but her cancer is.

That’s when everything slams back into her; realisation, feelings, panic. It explodes inside her like a freshly thrown grenade and it blows up all her plans and her promises in its wake.

“Holy crap,” she gasps. She draws her knees up to her chest, her eyes burning and her cheeks burning. “Oh my God!”

“I know, love, I know.” Suddenly there are hands on her back, her shoulders, her arms, and she feels suffocated by them. “Oh I’m so sorry, kid.”

“No.” She wriggles and pushes the arms away, her last semblance of sanity being the reason she doesn’t smack them instead. She jumps of the bed, stumbling over the tiled floor. Her heart beats frantically, wildly against her ribs. When she puts her hand on her chest, she feels like she holds it in her chest, barriers of skin and bone be damned.

“Janis-”

The room shrinks more than it ever has and everything is on top of her, around her and she can’t breathe, can’t move for all of it. All she feels is the eyes on her and the cancer in her blood, confining her here-

“I need to go,” she chokes out. Spit runs down her chin, tears down her cheeks. “I just… I need to be alone.”

Her mom goes to protest, but her dad takes her hand, his head shaking and something muttered to her. As usual, something about her that she doesn’t know.

As she falls to her knees on the bathroom floor, she keeps her mouth covered, her whole body wracking and trembling. A sound is ripped from her throat, something that sounds more like an animal than a human, primal and deep and so, so _afraid_. She’s afraid, more than she’s ever been before. High school girls is one thing. Having her identity thrown out for all to see is one thing. But she could control how she reacted to both of those. Both of those were other people, external forces attacking her and she chose how to defend herself. Now the attack is coming from inside her, and her fate is in everyone else’s hands and everything is out of her hands. All she can do is subject herself to others and even then they get it wrong too.

She hug her knees against her chest, wishing she had brought Purrlock in with her. Or better yet, if Damian was here again, holding her tightly and making her feel like she isn’t alone. She shakes her head quickly, bawling at the sharp, throbbing pain in it. She doesn’t want Damian here. Not if it meant he’d see her like this or have heard that.

Oh God. The realisation crashes over her like a tidal wave and drowns her. She’ll have to tell them all. Again. Tell her friends that this thing isn’t over months after she told them she had cancer to begin with. The weight drags her down, pulling her soul right into the floor, pressing it into the wall until it becomes part of it.

She’s just one person. Just one person. Surely there has to be a limit to how much one person can take, right?

At some point, she wipes the tears off her face and stretches out her legs. Her body feels hollowed out and yet completely full at the same time. She’ll either explode or wither away to nothing and both are fine with her. Both are better, in her mind, than what her actual future holds for her.

As her mind unravels, she finds herself wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t told her mom what was wrong. If she hadn’t ran into her dad in the bathroom. If she hadn’t went to that doctor’s appointment. Applied to old-fashioned method of “ignore it aggressively and hope it goes away”. Gone to school, applied to college and for a while at least, been normal.

When she looks down, her phone is in her hands, switched off. She didn’t even realise it was in her pocket. She turns it over in her hand; it holds every person she’s ever loved in there. She switches it on, trying to avoid the sight of her reflection. She can only imagine what that’s like. She’s an ugly crier at the best of times.

She swipes it open and goes to her contacts, swiping through the list until it becomes nothing but a bright, black and white blur. Among everything else she’s feeling, she’s lonely. The kind of loneliness that comes up around a person and builds walls between them and everyone else. The kind that sends her hand lying back whenever she tries to reach out. The kind that in the end, drives everyone else away anyway. No matter how badly she wants to-and needs to- make those calls. She can’t. She physically can’t. Even the thought of talking to anyone churns her stomach.

Well, there’s one exception. She looks at the screen, the name only there because Cady put it. She’s hated it ever since and contemplated deleting it so many times, but now it seems to be her only option.

God, she really is desperate.

She has the sense to send out a quick message first, just to be sure, and she spends about ten seconds in half-hopeful waiting. As she does, she strains to hear if anything is happening outside. Her parents must have gone off somewhere, out on a walk to try to clear their heads or off to talk to someone. Or they’re doing the opposite eavesdropping on her. Or they’re doing something she really doesn’t want to think about.

She mutters ‘ew’ to herself just as her phone buzzes into life, the name filling up the screen. She takes a second and watches it ring, questioning whether or not she should do it. She feels like somehow this is crossing a line, even if the only person she’s hurting is herself. When she was younger she swore she’d never do this again, never let loneliness drive her back to her.

But her younger self didn’t anticipate this, did she?

“Hey,” she says into the phone, her voice cracking as she speaks. “Hi, Regina.”

“Janis?” At least Regina is just as confused as she is. This has to be the first time in five years she's initiated contact. “Um… hi?”

“Are you like, cutting class right now?”

“Oh you have so much faith in me,” she sighs. “No. I had a free period so I was doing laps of the lacrosse field. What’s up? I mean this is-”

“Trust me, I know.” She swallows past the lump in her throat and feels her face crumple. “I just…. I needed someone but I didn’t want to talk to anyone I actually like right now.” She shrugs. “So here we are.”

“Here we are,” she replies. They fall silent and Regina’s breathing crackles on the speaker. She can almost picture her, standing in her sports stuff on the presumably empty field, face contorted in confusion and unsure of where to go.

Janis presses her hand into her knee and takes a deep breath. When she presses her hand to her cheek, she finds it icy and clammy. She pushes herself onto one knee and keeps her eye on the toilet, just in case.

“So what did you want to talk about?"

"I got-" She pauses, the words catching in her throat. It hurts to say those words. Like someone is pricking her tongue with a pin. But strangely, it’s also so relieving. Like she’s carried a weight on her back and it’s not taken off entirely, but it’s lessened. "Do me a favour and don't tell Cady about this, okay? Or anyone."

"Keeping secrets?" There's an accusatory undertone in her voice that for a moment brings Janis' old self back.

"Don't accuse me of shit," she snaps. "I've got enough to be dealing with without you being a bitch."

When she doesn't respond, Janis worries she may have hung up on her, and she thinks 'there goes whatever crumbs of a relationship we had'. But then she comes back, a small "sorry" in her ear and she can breathe.

"Thanks." She breathes out and lets her head fall against the wall. She sniffles and hopes Regina doesn't notice. It hurts, what she's about to say. Like someone is pricking her tongue with a pin. But strangely, it’s also so relieving. Like she’s carried a weight on her back and it’s not taken off entirely, but it’s lessened.

"I got my test results back today." She feels Regina sobering up on the other end and she bites back a wave of tears. "And they're not pretty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


	16. Cady

Cady almost drowned once.

She was a kid, and thankfully her dad managed to save her before it got too far. Her parents were observing a nearby river and decided to take her with them. She had wandered off, her parents distracted by their work, and leaned too far over the side and she fell in. For a split second there was nothing and she remembers when she hit the water, the way the water rushed in and filled her lungs, her naïve attempts at breathing failing. She had tried to swim, or even just to move, but she was six, and all rational thought fled her mind and one word replaced it; “help”.

That’s how she feels now. She opens her mouth but nothing comes in or out. The phone is pressed against her ear, her fingers still and cold like a statue’s around it. It was late evening when Janis had called her, but now time has lost all meaning. It may well have been hours since she picked up the phone, she doesn’t know. All she knows is what Janis has just old her, and they’ve sat in silence as both their worlds crumbled around them, the amount of time is anyone’s guess.

Janis breaks the silent first, and there’s a stab of guilt in Cady’s chest when she does.

“Caddy?” Cady bawks a little at the sound, the nickname reserved only for Janis. “Caddy please say something.”

“I…” She wipes her face, her fingers coming away stained black with streaked mascara. “I’m sorry, Janis.”

“Oh… thanks.” Her heart breaks even more than it had when she hears Janis sniff, and that wasn’t something she had thought possible. “Yeah it um… it sucks, I guess.”

“It does.”

‘Sucks’ is too weak a word for this, but Cady can’t think of the right one either. Nothing works, and what might work sounds fake. As does everything she could and wants to say now. She can’t ask if she’s okay because it’s obvious she isn’t, nobody would be. She doesn’t want to ask for the details because it will either break one of them or both of them. And she doesn’t want to change the subject because only a complete and utter jerk would do that.

And she also really, really doesn’t want to hang up, or for her to hang up either.

At least they seem on the same page with that.

“So who else did you tell?” she asks finally. Her pillow is held close to her cold chest, her fingers toying with the fringe around it.

“Damian,” she sighs. Of course. “My parents were already there when I heard so that was a bullet dodged. I think they have to be here. Because you know, I’m a children. I need parental supervision apparently.” A fraction of a smile tugs on her lips and there’s a faint, faint warmth in her chest, present but barely making an impact against the cold. She’s still her Janis, no matter what. “And then I called you. I thought at least this time you should hear it from me.”

“Thanks.” It’s not that she holds it against her for not telling her the first time, not at all, she had her reasons and Cady can’t be sure she wouldn’t have done the same.

“And… Regina.”

“Regina?” That gets Cady up to attention, the shock so fierce it actually manages to distract her. Janis talked to Regina? Willingly? About this? She looks up and tries to see if she could find any flying pigs zooming past her window. “You told Regina?”

“Yeah,” she replies, her voice shaking. Then it all comes out, rushing like water through open floodgates. “I don’t know, I was scared and upset and I needed to talk to someone but I didn’t want to hurt you or Damian and… that happened.” Cady leans back on the bed, digesting the information piece by piece. On the other end, Janis pants heavily like she just ran a marathon and while reason says it’s from her confession, her anxiety starts to climb. “Are you mad?”

Is she?

“No,” she says. It’s the best answer. “I’m… a little confused. Surprised, maybe. But not mad.” She shrugs then. “You had your reasons.”

“You’re the best,” Janis sighs. As they fall silent again, Cady’s mind wanders and she imagines what Janis must be doing now, what must she look like. Sitting on her hospital bed probably, clad in her pyjamas and beanie, looking out at the black sky outside. It hurts her just picturing it and her arms ache with how empty they are. If she could be anywhere else, she’d be over there with her, wrapping her arms around her and pressing kiss after kiss to the back of her head.

“Hey, Caddy?” she whispers in a broken voice.

“Mm-hm?”

“You know when you… when you found out?” she asks. “And I said to you that if this gets too hard for you to handle that you can… That I need you to promise to walk away if this gets too much?”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t like where this is going-”

“It’s just that the next few months are probably going to be really hard on me. On us,” she cries. “And I know how much you have on your plate.”

“It’s not like the last two months were peachy either,” they remind her.

“That’s different,” she says. “We thought we had an endgame then and now…. Caddy I’m just saying that the offer still stands.” She swallows thickly. “That you can…. You can leave if you want. If this gets too hard.”

Cady lets out a long exhale, their fingers digging into the covers. Back then they had mentally crossed her fingers when she made that promise and that hasn’t changed now. If anything, her resolve has only grown. They don’t think she could even get the words out.

“And I’m just saying that I’m not leaving,” they say steadily. Tears sting at their eyes, their breaths coming out ragged. “If you’re in this then I’m in this Janis. To the end.”

Janis is quiet for a while after that, so quiet that Cady fears she may have hung up.

“Wow,” she croaks. “That was passionate.”

“Yeah, well,” they shrug, pushing their hair off their shoulder. “We Leos are like that.”

“So you believe astrology now?”

“I didn’t,” they say. “But Gretchen did this whole thing at lunch the other day and mapped out everyone’s birth charts. And I don’t know, I was kind of into it. Besides… it said that Leos and Scorpios are most compatible.”

“And who are we to argue with the stars themselves?” Janis asks, bemused. It feels good, both to hear her happy and to smile herself, if a little out of place.

Cady lays down on their side, face pressed into the pillow.

“So you believe me then?”

“I’d be a fool not to,” Janis says. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” The words feel strong, stronger than anything she’s ever said before. She doesn’t think she’s ever meant something quite like she means this. “I am.”

“Okay. Okay.” She shifts on the other end, groaning and muttering something under her breath. “Caddy…. I-I appreciate this. Thank you, a lot. I mean it.”

“Thank me by getting better, okay?” they say. “Then you can take me on the big fancy three course dinner.”

“Given my bank balance it’ll be a Taco Bell,” she says. “But it’ll be the best damn Taco Bell you have ever had in your life.”

“That’s fine.” A fresh wave of tears runs down her face, her voice so tight it’s in danger of fading altogether. “Janis, I…”

“I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

She wipes her face again, her sweater hanging over her hands. The conversation’s run its course now, nothing left to say, but the idea of hanging up doesn’t feel right to her. She doesn’t know if it’s because of what she just told her, her need to be with her more because of it, or if it’s just plain old-fashioned missing her. What she does know is that thinking about saying goodbye hurts, a physical ache in her chest.

Luckily, Janis is on the same page as her.

“So what are you doing right now?” she asks. “Or… what were you doing, I guess?”

“Homework,” she sighs. She rolls onto her back and looks up at the ceiling. “Studying. The usual.”

“You know I never thought there would be a time where I actually missed math,” she sighs.

“Well how about on Friday I come over and teach you equations?”

“Ooh, you really know how to flirt don’t you, Heron?” she teases. “Romantic evening with you and some quadratic equations. Sounds like fun.”

“Oh I wouldn’t bore you with quadratics. I’d throw in some limits and functions too. I’m flexible.”

“I love when you talk nerd to me,” she mumbles and laughter lines her voice. Cady rolls onto their side, legs tucked up a little and despite everything that’s happened, a sort of golden warmth blossoms and spreads through her. She wishes she could somehow bottle this feeling and carry it around with her. Hold it close on the days when it feels far away. “How’s the tutoring going?”

“It’s going.”

“See normally when people say that they mean ‘it is going terribly’,” Janis tells her. “It’s what the waitress tells you during rush hour.”

“Fair enough,” she laughs. “But it is. It’s going good.” She hears a hum on the other end and then she somehow feels Janis smiling.

“Tell me about it.” It’s a soft request if there ever was one, and Cady sinks even further into the pillows.

And she tells her and answers her every question and laughs every snarky comment. She closes her tear-filled eyes, just to try something and when she does, it feels as though Janis is lying next to her, her face just inches from hers, her hand close enough to touch.

*****

She goes into school early the next day, when the sky is still dark-ish and the streetlamps are still on. Her breath forms in smoke in front of her face, dancing before her eyes. At some point last year, when she was still pre-Plastic, Janis blew in her face and played at being a dragon. She smiles at the memory, her cheeks warming as she does.

The janitor must have just turned on the heat when she comes in, her hair damp from the shower that just started as she was crossing the courtyard. She heaves a heavy sigh as she pulls it into a ponytail and heads towards her locker. Her schedule is pretty packed for today, her free periods used for tutoring and then a Mathletes meeting after school, so thankfully she had packed a substantial lunch for today.

Maybe she should have taken a snack bar too, she thinks as she judges the paper schedule taped to her locker door. Or at least an extra bottle of water.

“You’re crazy,” she mutters to herself. That’s what the water fountains are there for aren’t they? With her backpack balancing on her knee, she starts taking what she needs and putting them away again, knowing she won’t have time to get to her locker until lunch at the earliest. Her shoulder twinges as she puts it on and she gives it a rub. It’s fine, really. Nothing she can’t handle.

She throws the other strap on, closes the locker and turns to make her way to homeroom. She wasn’t so early that the school was deserted, but none of her crowd are here. A few freshmen wander around the halls, now adjusted to North Shore and even building their own little groups. Cady has to admit, it hurts her heart a little when she sees them sometimes; they look like reflections of her own peers last year. Not quite as fragmented yet, but the cliches are distinct even if people can move between them. Last week the walked past a girl with flowing hair, a powerful strut and two others following in her wake and she had to do a double take to make sure she wasn’t actually walking past Regina.

“Cady!”

“Woah!”

This time she actually was walking past Regina, nor more accurately nearly walking _into_ her. She catches herself just in time and backs up, not out of fear, just out of courtesy, the way she’d treat anyone else.

“Sorry,” she breathes. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Do you ever?” she asks but there’s no cruelty in the words anymore. Cady laughs and adjusts her bag on her shoulder. Regina’s hair is tied back in a ponytail and a gym bag sits on her shoulder. Cady winces. “Early morning practice?”

Regina gags and sticks out her tongue, giving Cady all the answer she needs.

“Running around in the mud at 7am, great way to spend a day,” she moans. “It wasn’t too bad, really.” Cady raises in eyebrow, sceptical, and Regina huffs a laugh. “Why does the soccer team get the nice, warm gym and we’re made to practice outside.”

“It’ll benefit you in the long run,” Cady reasons. “You know, practicing in the elements. You watch, the soccer team won’t have that advantage and then they’ll screw up their first game.”

“I hope so,” she says firmly. “They deserve it for putting us through that. Walk with me to my locker so I can put this away?”

“Sure.”

“I also think it’s because we’re girls,” Regina goes on. “And Mr Duvall doesn’t want to give girls’ sports the same level of importance he gives boys’ sports.”

“Oh come on, Mr Duvall isn’t sexist,” she tells her.

“Maybe, but the sports department, I’m not so sure.” Cady snorts a laugh, but it’s only a seconds-long distraction from the tight feeling in her stomach. Despite the easy conversation with Regina, there’s something bubbling below the surface and she can’t be the only one who feels it. She definitely isn’t. And the more she tries to ignore it, the more it lingers. By the time they reach her locker, Cady feels it standing over them, breathing down both of their necks and she can’t ignore it any more.

“So… I heard you talked to Janis.”

It comes out like an accusation and Regina freezes at it. her mouth falls open and eyes remain forwards, trained on a spot in her locker.

Janis had asked if she was mad, and she wasn’t. At least she thinks she wasn’t. She doesn’t know what she’s feeling and it’s a not a good feeling when you don’t know anything, let alone your own feelings. Regardless of that, she just offers a casual shrug when Regina finally faces her.

“Um… yeah,” she says. “She just needed someone to talk to. Believe me I was as shocked as you are.”

“I’m not shocked,” she says. “That much.”

“It’s okay,” she tells her. “Really.” She closes the door and leans up against it, her jaw set. “Are you okay?”

She nods, the word ‘yes’ forming in her throat but not making it to her lips. Regina lets out a long breath and drums her fingers on her arm.

“It definitely sucks,” she says.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Regina opens her mouth a fraction, but before she can say whatever it is, her phone pings and with it, Cady’s heartbeat triples, quadruples, in less than a second. Without warning, every possible scenario flies through her head and the few seconds she takes to check drags out into hours, and Cady bites back a scream.

“It’s Karen,” she says. “She says um… flamingo emoji, bus emoji, book emoji, two girls holding hands.” She rolls her eyes fondly. “I can’t decipher any of this, can you?”

It’s only when she looks at her that Cady realises she hasn’t breathed yet. She nods and looks at the screen as she tries to remember how her lungs work.

“Um, well…. She uses the two girls holding hands emoji when she’s with Gretchen,” she mumbles. “And then she’s on the bus, probably doing homework.” She hands Regina back her phone. “Not sure what the flamingo means.”

“Okay…” Her voice trails off as she puts her phone back into her jacket, her gaze never leaving Cady. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She winces at the sound of her voice; how high it is. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Regina doesn’t answer exactly, but the face she makes says ‘literally every reason under the sun’. Cady runs a hand through her hair and shakes it out.

“I’m fine,” she tells her. “Really. Just a little worked up.”

“Oh.” She straightens up and smiles, and for a second Cady sees a glimpse of the old Regina, only minus the malice. All the sweetness she feigned when they met seems real now, but her pull is as strong as ever. “Well, come on, I’ll walk you to your home room.”

Cady nods and lets Regina put her arm around her and talk whatever at her, her nerves calming but never disappearing for a moment, sparking under the surface of her skin all because of one text message that wasn’t even to her or from Janis. The floor she walks on feels like it’s made of glass, and she keeps her footsteps light so that it won’t break.

As they walk, she slips her hand into her jacket pocket and taps her phone, waiting to feel it buzzing On her very first day here, way back when, she had listened intently when Principal Duvall told her that phones were to be kept switched off for the school day and only meant to be used in an emergency. She took that seriously, so seriously that seeing Janis with her phone out at lunch nearly gave her a heart attack. She only began breaking that rule when she was full plastic and that was only to take silly pictures of herself or check her socials.

At least she’s breaking rules for a good reason this time around.

Her hand barely leaves her pocket all throughout the day. It’s either in it or sitting around it, tapping the back of her phone to make sure it hasn’t disappeared on her and she doesn’t-she can’t calm down all day, not even for a second. Not even when she gets to calculus, which is meant to be her safe haven. No amount of numbers in all their beautiful logic can calm the frantic humming of her mind, nor can it quell the incessant tapping of her pencil against the desk.

She mumbles an apology to her desk partner Jason before he goes and sees him rolling his eyes when he thinks he’s out of eyesight. She heaves her bag onto her shoulder and heads for the door with her books clutched against her chest, her hair falling forwards past her face. She’s just a foot away, maybe less, when she’s caught with a hand on her shoulder.

“Cady!” When she turns, Ms Norbury is standing behind her, wearing the same kind of warm, inviting smile she had the first day she met, the kind that makes Cady feel like she could collapse into her arms and tell her everything. “You got a minute kid?”

“Sure.” It’s lunchtime anyway so the room isn’t being used and her friends won’t mind her being a few minutes late. She follows Norbury and perches herself on the desk, her feet swinging slightly. Norbury raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t react. Perks of being a Mathlete, Cady guesses.

“So… how are you doing?” she asks, leaning on her own desk. She doesn’t quite meet Cady’s eyes and the tension in her grip on the wood tells her everything she needs to know.

“You know, don’t you?” she asks. “About Janis.”

“Her parents like keeping the school updated,” she answers. “Keep us in the loop. It’s nice of them.” Cady hums and after hours of her trying to push it down, the lump in her throat only grows bigger and threatens to choke her. “And I know it’s hard on you.” Another hum and Cady wonders if she’ll actually be able to do full sentences today. Norbury cocks her head, biting her lips a little. “Cady? You okay?”

“Fine,” she says. She looks down at her clasped hands, only noticing for the first time how ragged and short her nails are. It must have been months since she last picked at them, but now the skin is red and raw and there’s barely room to put nail polish on them if she wanted to. She swallows thickly and allows a little more to creep out. “It’s hard, I guess.”

“You guess?” she asks. Cady almost smiles at that and pulls her cardigan tighter around her. “It’s okay, Cady.”

“Yeah.” She presses her palms together tightly, her shoulders squeezed tightly.

“And I’m sure you’ve been told this by just about everyone in this place,” she says. “But if you ever need anything… I’m here. If you need to talk or anything.” The image of her and Norbury having a heart to heart in the math supply cupboard flashes through Cady’s mind and while it’s funny, it’s not exactly far-fetched. After Janis and Damian, Norbury is probably the person she trusts most, and who knows her best. She may not have had every detail of last year, but she saw enough to piece it together. She was the one who got her out of it really. Showed her who she really is. “Or if you need to lessen your workload-”

“No.” She shakes her head so firmly and so quickly that her neck twinges. Norbury’s mouth falls open, a near-silent ‘oh’ escaping it. “I don’t need- I don’t want any kind of special treatment.” She shifts on the desk, pressing her hands together. “Thanks.”

“It’s not any kind of special treatment, Cady,” she tells her. “If you’re sure-”

“I am.” Her voice is so much stronger than she thought. And stronger than she feels. “Besides, I’m handling it. And it’s-it’s good isn’t it? All this work?” She shrugs. “Keeps my mind busy I guess.” Norbury nods, an understanding smile on her face.

“Well, if there’s anything you ever want to talk about, I’m here.”

“I appreciate it, Ms Norbury. Really.” She feels there should be a hug here, hell, she sort of wants there to be a hug here, but they’re both still in school and school rules still apply. So for now, the soft smiles they give each other are enough.

“Okay you run along now,” she says, making a shooing motion with her hand as she does so. “Don’t want to hold you back from your lunch.”

She huffs a laugh at that and readies herself to go, but when she looks at the door, all she feels is this sinking feeling in her chest. Suddenly the hallway isn’t made of linoleum tiles but of quicksand and walking to the cafeteria won’t kill her, but it may take a lot out of her. In here she feels the safest she has all day, away from people’s prying eyes even if they are well-meaning. She could go and eat in the bathroom, but bathrooms are breeding grounds for gossip and she’s not that pathetic, not any more.

“Ms Norbury?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Can I…. can I eat in here?” She doesn’t know if eating lunch in her math classroom with your teacher is better or worse than eating in a bathroom stall, but she’s willing to try. Her head snaps up, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “I mean, it’s fine if you can’t, you’re probably busy.”

But her face breaks out into a smile, and she puts her lunchbox on the desk and nods.

“Of course you can hon,” she says. “And as it would happen, I was just about to whack on a podcast. You ever listened to Mathematically Speaking?” Cady shakes her head. “Oh you are in for a treat. Come on, I’ll put the volume up. Don’t just sit there, get out your food!”

Cady grins and takes out her own lunch before sending Damian a quick text about a lunchtime study group. Odds are he’ll figure out that it isn’t true sooner or later, but odds are also that he’ll understand. She crosses her legs on the table and leans on her elbows as Ms Norbury explains everything about the podcast and her failed attempts to get the rest of the math teachers into it. It may be considered geeky, to spend lunchtime sitting listening to people talk about math, but Cady loves it all the same, and more importantly, she can breathe with relative ease throughout it and she only worries when she door opens for two seconds, only for it to be another teacher asking to borrow textbooks. The best part is that she can have her phone sitting in her lap, in full view, and Norbury doesn’t even question it.

At the end of the day she’s almost tempted to skip the Mathlete meeting. Despite her brief reprise at lunch, the whole day had sucked all the energy out of her, leaving her feeling like a shadow by her last class. Not just feeling, when she went to the bathroom she saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes, the paleness of her skin and the mess that is her hair. Even if it’s nothing a bit of borrowed make up can’t fix, it still shocks her quite a bit. Maybe she could fake sick and get out of it. Maybe she wouldn’t need to fake it, she thinks.

But the idea is tossed aside quickly, so much so that she nearly scowls at herself in the mirror. The Mathletes needed a leader after Kevin G graduated and she’s taken up that position. Besides if Kevin knew that she was even thinking about ditching he’d be mortified. Betrayed more than any human being has been betrayed and he would certainly tell her as much. Probably with a Star Wars analogy.

So after a moment spent alone in the bathroom, Cady lifts up their chin, reapplies their make-up and heads off to the classroom, powering through the halls as heads turn in their direction. Like everything that happens here, news about Janis must have spread by now. Someone says something to someone, who says it to another someone, who says it to another someone. And on and on it goes until everyone knows, even the people who never knew her. But they know she’s Cady’s girlfriend and the weight of the pitying looks propels them faster down the hall until they practically stumbles through the door.

“Hey Africa,” Tyler greets from where he sits on the desk, his legs crossed. The nickname has stuck eve if they’re far from ‘the new kid’. It feels nice, strangely, although they’d hate it coming from anyone else. It keeps her connected to her roots. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Right,” she sighs. “Today’s agenda.” They shake their head and would slap themselves if they were alone. This isn’t time for emotional Cady, or distracted Cady. This is time for Mathlete Captain Cady, the Cady who has everything organised down to the bathroom schedule and who walks into team meetings with a smile and a bounce. That’s the Cady they chose to be their captain, and she took on that mantle with pride. The only issue is that Captain Cady seems to be having trouble coming to the front right now. “Um… so last week we looked at strategies for our next contest. And we started going back over trig.” They let out a breath, their hands steadying. Maybe this will be easier than they thought. “And at least we’ve gotten past qualifiers now.”

“Yeah but that was the easy part,” a girl speaks up, an AP Calc girl whose name Cady should know. Something beginning with a J, they think, but the rest is blank.

“Yes thank you for that,” they mumble. Heat prickles at their back and they shift from one foot to the other, their chest suddenly tight. Maybe it’s the running they did to get here. “Um… can we open a window here?”

“A window, it’s freezing.”

“Okay, strike that then,” they mumble. They take out their planner and flip through it, the paper slipping through their sweaty fingers until they find the right page. “Okay so for today I thought we’d move on to statistics. I know a lot of us have that down, but we can’t afford to slip up on it, especially since, as we saw on the videos last week, that tends to be the area most teams ignore.” They smile and wipe their hand on their jeans. “Sound good?”

“You’re the boss,” Tyler says, and they’re almost put at ease by it.

“Okay, so I got out these packs and, oh _shuck_!” They slap their palm to their head in an almost comedic fashion. “I’m so sorry guys, I completely forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“The packs,” they groan. “I downloaded these amazing packs from the Internet, made by this guy who was the captain of his school’s winning mathlete team, and I printed them out, I-I think I printed them out, and they’re either in my room or in my locker.” They try to rack their brain, but their head feels far too warm and everything is disorganised; a jumbled, incoherent mess that they can’t even hope to sift through. In their mind’s eye they see a half-formed picture of them putting them in their locker, but they can’t work out if it’s real or just wishful thinking. “I-I know I printed them but I can’t remember where I put them.” They run their hand through their hair two, three times and when they blink, there’s the unmistakable feeling of tears in their eyes.

Oh God, they can’t be crying. Not over this.

“Hey, Cady,” Tyler says softly. He’s risen from his seat, his hand extended towards her. “It’s okay. Really. I mean our next contest isn’t until when?”

“When?” they echo. “Oh, oh God, um…” They flip through the planner again, through pages of carefully glitter pen. “Oh, it’s not for another three weeks.”

“See, so we’re good,” he says. They nod and try to take a deep breath, giving Tyler a grateful nod. “Okay, so for this week, I say we start going over statistics. Start from the basics and work our way up. We all have our textbooks right?” The room nods at her, but it doesn’t do anything for them. They wish more than anything they could collapse into one of those chairs and bury their head in numbers, to let someone else take the reins for once, but unfortunately, that’s not in the cards for the captain. Instead they take out a whiteboard pen and open the textbook, swallow the lump in their throat, and get to work.

Ms Norbury slips in a bit later, coffee in hand and mumbling an apology about a staff meeting having ran late. By that time they’re already half way through the chapter and Cady has managed to keep the fact that they’re completely falling apart mostly under wraps. For once they’re thankful that so few people join Mathletes. They’re not so sure how they’d fare in front of a bigger crowd than this.

They call for a break not long after, the rest of the room leaning back in their chairs and exhaling loudly, heads dangling backwards. They all love Mathletes, but as they days get shorter and school piles up, they take all the breaks they can get. Cady tries to follow her peers’ leads, to let their shoulders drop or to even exhale, but their body won’t obey. They feel like a wound-up toy, just one turn of a key away from snapping and falling apart.

“Cady?” Ms Norbury appears at their side, hand on their shoulder and concern in her eyes. “You doing okay?”

“Fine,” they say. They push their hair out of their face, wincing at their fingers catch on the knots. “Fine. I um….” They try to breathe, but they feel like someone is pushing down on their chest and as they look around, the room seems to shrink. “Uh… I’m going to go check my locker. I think there’s some- you weren’t here but I said I printed out some stuff and I might have left it in there. So I’ll-I’ll go check.”

The hallways aren’t much better- the walls far too close no matter where they stand and the ceiling pressing down over their head. At least they’re alone, no other people to push past or questions to avoid.

They pull to a stop beside their locker, their clammy hand on their chest, finding their heartbeat frantic below their shirt. A small, pained whimper escapes them and a metallic taste hangs around in their mouth. They lean against the locker and inhale and exhale until they feel some degree of normal. Maybe they should have skipped Mathletes today, regardless of what Kevin would have said.

Slowly, they reach into their back pocket and pull out their phone, the screen cold and soothing to their warm skin. When the screen lights up, the one thing they find is an email from a magazine they subscribe to. No messages, not even when they go through every social media they have to double check.

Trembling slightly, they hold the phone against their chest. No news is sometimes good news-that’s what their mom likes to say. Lately it often feels like any news is bad news, at least on the Janis front. And they’re just waiting from update to update with a growing feeling of dread. They don’t know if and when something will happen, if tomorrow morning they’ll wake up and find that she’s either better or worse, if this ends or it goes on. And it’s exhausting, all this waiting. Especially since if something does happen, they probably won’t be the first to know.

“Cady?” They nearly jump into the ceiling at the sound of their name. When they look up it’s not Ms Norbury they find but Tyler, wringing his hands awkwardly. Their name almost sounds unfamiliar in his voice, having been called ‘Africa’ so many times. Tyler holds up his hands awkwardly, either in surrender or defence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” they say. They turn around and fiddle with the locker combination, their fingers slipping and fumbling around it. “I was just-”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he says. “Um… look Cady, some of us where talking.” The hair on the back of her neck pricks up at that and her fingers freeze. “We know you’re under a lot of pressure right now. I mean, we all are but…. I think you’re going through more than the rest of us.” They hum, trying to sound as casual as possible, but in reality their knees are shaking. “And you know… if you wanted to maybe step down or take up a co-captain… that’d be fine.”

“No.” Their voice is surprisingly strong given how weak they feel. They turn around to face Tyler, their hair swinging behind them, and their hands curl into fists. “Look Tyler I know you mean well… but I’m not stepping down.”

“Hey, it’s not like that,” he tells them. “You’re definitely one of the best captains we’ve ever had. I mean you’ve got us so much further already. Kevin picked a good one.” He smiles at them then, and Cady can’t help but smile back, even if it’s muted. “I’m just saying that I know you’re going through a lot with Janis right now. Maybe taking some stuff off your plate might help you out.” He shrugs. “We just want you to be okay. We’re not kicking you off the team, Africa. We’d be idiots to do that.”

Cady bites the inside of their cheek, the tension slowly releasing from their hands. Tyler isn’t not like some others in this school, he might be a bit of a Dude sometimes, but he’s sweet and he’s honest, even if it’s brutally, and most of all he cares about them, about everyone. He looks out for people. He doesn’t talk down to people, not intentionally.

And he might have a point.

Kind of.

“Thank you,” they say eventually. “But… no. I’m fine. I’ve got this. I’m just…. Adjusting.” They cross their arms over their chest. “It’s been a rough day.”

“Yeah… I heard,” he says, his voice small. Cady nods. They don’t ask how, they’re pretty sure they don’t want to know. “But… if you’re sure you’ve got this.”

“I am. Besides,” they grin. “You losers wouldn’t last a week without me.”

“Oh that’s for sure.” A giggle passes between them and Cady turns around and opens their locker. As luck would have it, they find the folder sitting on the shelf and pull it out, waving it in front of Tyler.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” They close the door and slide up to him, the folder held against their chest. “Just a little wobble. But I’m fine, really.”

“Aye, aye captain,” he says.

“But I appreciate the offer,” they tell him. “Now come on, we should get back before people start thinking that we’re off making out somewhere.”

“I don’t think anyone would do that,” he says, offering his arm. They take it, chuckling, and the two set off down the hall. “They know you’re with Janis. And that I am a confirmed bachelor, single by choice.”

“Yeah, everyone else’s choice,” they tease, but it’s good natured and Tyler laughs at it, and agrees. Secretly, Cady is glad he offered his arm, not just because it lightens the mood, but because they’re not sure they could make it down to the classroom on their own.

“Hey… you know that we’re all here for you, right?” he asks. “Me, the rest of the crew. We’ve all got your back. You’re one of us, Africa.”

“I’d like to think so. Otherwise the jacket was a huge waste of a purchase,” they respond. Then they rest their cheek on Tyler’s shoulder and sniffles. Tyler, of course, he doesn’t judge. “Thank you.”

It’s dark enough when they get home, winter has dug its claws in tightly, and the rain from this morning has made a reappearance. Their mom greets them with a hug and a pat on the head and tells them dinner won’t be long. They grin and thank her but ask if they can have it in their room.

“Just got a lot of work to do,” they say. In reality, they hardly touch the plate, and sneak it down an hour later mostly full. They didn’t lie, they do have a lot of work to do, deadlines closer than they’d like, but they find themselves unable to so much as pick up a pencil, instead sitting on their bed and staring at the wall, their eyes heavy and their soul heavier. Their phone sits in their lap and they sit on edge, waiting for it to vibrate or light up and give them something, anything. It stays silent and they finally give up.

They climb into bed earlier than usual, and sleep comes almost as soon as they close their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure: I have 0 idea how mathlete meetings are supposed to go.
> 
> comments and kudos make a happy author :)


	17. Janis

Janis doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when she wakes up the TV is off and her tray table is cleared. A soft moan escapes her lips as she stretches, her legs shifting against the mattress and her hand dragging down her face, her mind still almost asleep and wanting to stay there. Her body fights to stay awake, trying to pull her to consciousness, but it’s like pulling yourself out of quicksand. It doesn’t take long at all for her to give in and pull the blankets tighter around her, her hand drifting to the back of her neck-

That gets her up, even if she’s not entirely sure why it did at first. She lays there, frowning in confusion and wondering why something isn’t right. She looks at her surroundings, checking them off one by one, but nothing clicks with her, not until she pushes herself up and runs her hand over her head. That’s when reality shoves her in the chest, the touch cold and cruel and hard, winding her.

She doesn’t remember what she was dreaming about, but she had hair in it.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters. She kicks the covers off and pulls her knees close to her chest. Her body is still stiff and sore from sleep and her eyes are still heavy and her vision half-blurred. She buries her face in her hand and pulls at the skin, nails digging in like she can take growing lump of self-pity and rip it out with her bare hands. She swallows down whatever pathetic cry was building in her throat and looks out the window instead, out at grey sky hanging over the parking lot and down to the ant-sized people walking around the parking lot and beyond. She leans forward on her elbow and blinks away sleep. They’re saying it’s set to start snowing soon and judging by the colour of those clouds and the frost creeping up her windowpane, that might be sooner than she thinks. A thrill of excitement runs up her spine, and a slow roll of disappointment crushes it. It may well snow, but who knows what kind of state she’ll be in when it does?

“Morning.”

“Oh my god!”

Well, there’s one way to be woken up, she thinks as her heart rate triples and she nearly hits the ceiling from jumping so high. The whole hospital probably just heard that. She predicts that in thirty seconds there will be a team of nurses flooding in, her concerned mother with them, all expecting to see her in the foetal position in the corner.

When she turns around, to her surprise, she finds Damian standing in the doorway, cup in his hand and a sheepish expression on his face. She turns to face him, blinking once, twice, just to make sure she isn’t still dreaming. She goes through the week in her head, trying to work out why and how he came to be here, anxiety ticking upwards.

“Were we…” she begins. “Were we meant to hang out today?”

“Oh, no,” he says with a shake of his head. “No, don’t worry kid.” She shifts then, her hands half-clasped in her lap and the frown not leaving her face.

“So… and I mean this with all the love in my heart,” she asks. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…” His smile just about wavers on his face and he shrugs. “I was in the neighbourhood.”

“You live half an hour away,” she reminds him dryly.

“Okay, okay,” he replies. His voice is strained, tired even, and there’s a flicker of guilt in her chest. “I… just missed you, I guess. I mean I know I saw you yesterday, but I missed you. Still.” He closes the looks down at the cup in his hand and swirls his around. “I went to go get some tea from the machine and when I came back, you were up. Is it a bad time? I mean, it probably is-”

“No, Damian, it isn’t.” She almost admits that it isn’t ideal either, but she bites her tongue and holds it back. It isn’t ideal, not when she’s just barely woken up and she only feels like half of a person, but he doesn’t need to hear that. Not when, judging by his face, he already feels bad enough. And honestly… she missed him too. Especially when he was by her side almost every day since they met. Only seeing him once a week feels wrong somehow, and so any visit, even when she’s not feeling herself, is a welcome one.

With a soft smile, she pushes herself off the bed and motions for him to sit down. She slips in beside him, her legs falling over his and trapping him on the chair before he can attempt to move. Then she throws her arm around his shoulders and tilts his face to look at her, squishing his cheek to lighten the mood. “It’s not a bad time. You could never be.”

“Aw.” He grins, lighting up the room as he does so, and pokes her cheek in return. “You’re sweet.”

“Mm, I have to be every once in a while. Otherwise I’m just an asshole with a sense of humour and great legs.” He chuckles at that and she feels it against her. Their bodies are so tightly pressed together they’re practically the same person, and she’s reminded of when they were still in middle school, having sleepovers where they would lie side-by-side on the couch. They never stopped being affectionate with each other, but they were never quite as intimate that way again until now. It’s a good feeling, and one she hadn’t known she missed. “So, what’s the haps? Oh, winter talent show, isn’t that around the corner?”

“Sign-up sheet is up already,” he tells her. “You’ll never, ever guess what the Plastics signed up to do.”

“Oh God,” she scoffs. “Well, I guess it’s their last year. It would be rude to break tradition. I take it Cady’s doing it with them?”

“They are,” he says. He opens his mouth and closes it again, and despite the lack of spoken words she hears all she needs to, a silent ‘they didn’t tell you’ hanging between them. “They still need a fourth person. Regina said she wants them to start rehearsing soon. Hopefully, this year runs a lot more smoothly than last year’s.”

“Are you doing an act?” she asks. “I think you should.”

“I don’t know. Although I was talking to Aaron and he said I should do a Cabaret number just to show the drama club what they’re missing,” he jokes. “I told him that’s too petty.”

“Not petty enough. Do a lap dance in front of the director. And make it your college audition.”

“You know someone on the Reddit forums said they did and they got into Elon with it.”

“I would check the verification of that,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Not because I think it’s not true, but because I so desperately want it to be.” He laughs and whispers ‘okay’ at that before the smile melts from his face, revealing something a little more serious beneath it.

“Sorry I scared you,” he says. “I came in and you were asleep, and your mom said I could wait around if I wanted.” He shrugs. “She went to go stretch her legs. It that was a while ago, but I told her I could hold it down here.”

“It’s fine,” she says and waves her hand to prove it. “She needs some alone time anyway. Although I’m very curious as to how long you sat there and watched me sleep.” The corner of her mouth turns up into a grin. “Pervert.”

“I didn’t watch you sleep I read the magazine your mom left here,” he says before he consults his watch. “And it wasn’t even ten minutes.”

“Mm, you say that.” She leans her head on his shoulder and snuggles further into him. It’s not perfect; her knees smack into his chest and narrowly avoid his face, but it’s okay. “We probably should have taken the bed.”

“Oops,” is all he replies and it gets her bursting into laughter. “Eh, this feels more right. More organic.”

“More gay,” she finishes.

“Eh, that too,” he shrugs. “Plus I think this chair and I are permanently bonded now.”

“I’ll send out the wedding invites,” she jokes. She finds a semi-comfortable position with her head propped up on her elbow and her legs draped over the other side of the chair and as she does, an idea sparks up in her mind. “Hey… maybe I could go to the talent show.”

“What?”

“It was one conversation topic ago,” she says. “But the school talent show. Well… maybe I could go.” She inspects her nails. “I mean, it’s not definite. But it would be fun. Especially if you decided to do a funky little Broadway medley.” He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and she feels her stomach do a turn.

“I mean… I’d love that,” he says. “But… are you sure you’d be able to? I mean, isn’t you being here kind of a permanent thing?”

“It’s not like I’m quarantined, Damian.” It’s only after she said it that she realises how harsh she sounds. She swears that it sounded nicer in her head. Damian blinks slowly as her words turn into dust and settle over them, and all she can do is bite her tongue and attempt to work out where the hell that came from. She shakes her head, a short, quick breath escaping her, and smiles. “Besides, even if I was I’d break out for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he says.

“But it should be fine,” she says. “You know, be back by a certain time. Don’t stay out too much, have my mom on speed dial. And it’s not like we’d be walking around a lot. Besides, we go out all the time?”

“We?” he asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Me and the cancer crew,” she explains. “We’re allowed out as long as we’re supervised and back in time for our chemo. In fact, we’re going to this concert next month.”

“A concert?” he echoes, equally disbelieved.

“Yeah. I mean it’s not something I’d usually be into. It’s that Jingle Ball concert, which isn’t really my thing, but the cancer fund secured a bunch of free tickets. And it’s in some private box. And….” She leans in close, her voice a low, husky whisper to add to the dramatic effect. “A minibar.”

“Oh and I’m sure that’ll go over great with all you underage kids.”

“Yeah,” she grimaces. “But it’s still cool to have. But anyway the point is yes, I am allowed to leave. Thank God. I think I’d go insane if I had to say cooped up in here 24/7.” She shudders at the thought of spending every minute of every day inside these walls. The deal she has right now is bad enough for her. “There would most definitely be a bloodbath at some point.”

“Well that’s a beautiful image,” he says, his eyes going wide as he pictures it too. Janis hides her chuckle behind her hand. “Load of sick children trying to murder each other with their bare hands.

“Don’t be fooled, some of us are very scrappy,” she says. “Anyway, I’ll ask my mom about me going to the talent show. And my doctor, too.” She hesitates then, studying him out of the corner of her eye and gauging his reactions. “If…. That’s okay with you?”

“Okay with me?” he echoes. “Of course it’s okay.” He grins at her then, and it puts her at ease completely. She feels silly for even worrying, even if it was just for a minute. Why would he not be okay with it? “I’d need my biggest fan in the audience.”

“Cady looks cute as shit in that Santa outfit,” she says. “I need to see her in it up close.”

“You already saw her in it last year.”

“Yeah but we weren’t dating last year,” she reminds him. “And also I hated Regina last year, so I kept my distance. And I still hate her, of course. But you know. We’re all friends, I guess.” Damian hums in agreement. She almost opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s too preoccupied by what she just said. That she hated Regina last year and that she still does. The former is true, but the latter? For some reason she isn’t so sure. She may dislike her still, but would she really have called her in her weakest moment if she hated her?

“I’m sure I’ll be able to slip away for an hour,” she says. She shakes her head slightly, trying to clear her head, and hopes Damian doesn’t see. “If nothing else I want to see if they can pull it off without me set designing.”

“You are such a freaking Scorpio you know that?” he scoffs. No sooner has he said it than he gasps loudly, his hand slapping her leg with a loud, loud _thwack_ and likely leaving a little red mark. She rubs the spot and glares at him, even if he’s oblivious to it, hoping to get an explanation. “Your birthday! Your birthday’s coming up.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She shifts in the seat slightly. “That.” Damian looks at her expectantly, his mouth falling into a small ‘oh’, and she just shrugs back at him. “I mean, you’re right. My birthday is soon.” It’s just over a week away actually, not that she’s counting.

“And?” he asks. “We haven’t even started planning yet. What kind of cake do you want? What do you want?”

“You don’t need to get me presents,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. She avoids his gaze entirely, instead focussing on the back of the chair and pulling at lose threads on it. “I mean… it’s fine. I haven’t thought about it a lot.” She pulls harder, the treads making sharp sounds as she pulls them out. “I don’t…. I’m not sure about my birthday this year.”

Damian opens his mouth, the word ‘why’ ready on his lips, but it dies in less than a second and he takes in the room as though he’s seeing it for the first time. She doesn’t blame him, not entirely. Sometimes it’s easy to forget, a combination of old habits dying hard and of conversation taking them away from here, making her feel almost normal again. She smiles to herself, soft and a little bitter, and runs her nails along the back of the chair.

“You sure?” he asks. “I mean I know it’s different this year…. But you only turn 18 once.” He nudges her with his shoulder. “Besides, as the second born in the group, you’ll be setting the precedent for everyone else.”

“I miss when I was the oldest,” she jokes. Back when it was just him and her, and when it was him, her and Cady, she was always the first birthday. Now they’ve melded with the Plastics and Regina’s July birthday has outshone hers. At least she got to go to her party this year. It wasn’t too bad, although she and Cady did end up sneaking out early and making use of the hammock in Regina’s back yard.

Maybe if the topic comes up, she’ll ask her parents for a hammock.

“I just want you to enjoy yourself,” he says after a while. His face is soft when he looks at her, soft and completely vulnerable. It’s one of the many things she loves about him, that unironic earnest manner of his. It’s why she feels the safest with him. The corner of his mouth turns upwards. “Just because you’re in a hospital doesn’t mean you can’t party. And we want to celebrate you.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Well, I do. And Cady definitely does. And Karen probably just wants cake.” She slaps his head lightly, her touch careful, knowing from experience that being slapped hurts more with a shaved head. But her heart is warm and growing to twice its size, and she needs to take a minute just to compose herself before thinking on anything else.

He’s not the first to being up her birthday. Her mom’s brought it up twice now and both times she’s dodged the topic with as much grace as she can muster and her mom seems to have gotten the hint. It’s not that she doesn’t want to do anything, on the contrary, she wants to do a lot. She had started gathering ideas for her 18th birthday during the summer, gathering inspiration on Pinterest boards and then going to check prices. She didn’t have a concrete idea, but she had hoped a chocolate fountain was involved. It would most likely devolve into a sleepover with Cady and Damian (if her mom would allow a sleepover with her girlfriend). She had other ideas too; maybe a movie marathon, or bowling, or both, and loads of pizza and popcorn and a chocolate fountain and not actually sleeping until the early hours of the morning. The she got cancer, and the plans went out of the window.

The bottom line of it all is, she has no idea what type of day her birthday will be. If she’ll be up and running around and feeling mostly fine or if she’ll start it with her head bent over a toilet and have it all go downhill from there. And the last thing she wants to do is hang plans on something only for it to go south. To have all her friends over and for her to not be here, not really. But Damian’s planted the idea in her head now, and her mind won’t let it go.

“I appreciate that, Damian,” she says quietly. She gives a shrug, a cheeky grin on her face. “And who knows? Maybe we could do something.”

“Really?”

“I said maybe,” she reminds him firmly. Nothing is set in stone either way and that’s the best way to handle anything now. The finer details are a bridge she can cross closer to the time, she decides. It’s the easiest way to not get hurt, and also to make sure no-one else gets let down. For now she smushes her cheek against his shoulder and smiles. “Thanks for coming over by the way.”

“Aww.” He runs his knuckles up and down her arm. “Anything for you, mon Cherie.”

Damian sticks around for almost an hour, the two of them spending the time flicking through the TV and deciding to move to the bed after fifteen minutes, when he says he can’t feel his leg any more. He fills her in on more of the school stuff she’s missed, the news getting more and more mundane until he reaches topics she’s already heard. She doesn’t tell him that though. At some point, she entertains the idea of taking him down to the longue and the two of them commandeering the better TV in there, maybe introducing him to some people, but not two seconds later she pushes it away, suddenly shaken by it. She doesn’t know why, but the idea of introducing Damian to her cancer friends doesn’t sit well with her.

“Thanks for coming over,” she says again, her voice soft and cracking as she does so. She punches his shoulder gently. “I missed you.”

“Sorry I crashed your nap,” he replies, nodding over in the direction of the bed. Janis frowns and follows his gaze. When she looks back at him, he only shrugs awkwardly, his frame almost too big for the door, a guilty expression on his face. “You know… just if I’d known you were asleep I wouldn’t have come over.”

“What? No, Damian.” She shakes her head, her hand halfway extended towards him. “No it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to wake up to you.” She grins. “After the heart attack you gave me.”

“Yeah I’m sorry about that too,” he adds, but there’s more of a smile on his face now. She stretches up on her toes and hugs him tightly, letting him know it’s fine. It’s all fine, really. And while he can’t see her face, she lets out a small exhale, her face scrunching just a little as she thinks about it more. He missed her, and he came all this way to see her. She thinks that maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised at this, not anymore, but here she is.

Her mom is sitting in the chair when she returns to her room, her glasses perched on the end of her nose and her phone screen reflected in them. She sees from the reflection it’s Solitaire and she guesses by her mom’s face that it’s not going well.

“He’s gone home,” she says by way of greeting. She flops onto her bed and ends up in some half-sitting half lounging position, her knees against her chest. She looks at her mom out of the corner of her eye, watching her expression barely changing. Must be a hard game.

“How is he?” she asks, half distracted.

“He’s good,” she says. She ducks her head and if she had hair still, it would hide the smile on her face. “It was fun. We had fun.”

“Well that’s good,” she says, still not putting the phone down but her eyes moving over to her. Janis looks down and picks at the sheets, her legs crossed and she bites the inside of her cheek, the elephant in the room nudging her repeatedly with its trunk until she takes a deep breath just to shut it up.

“Pity I was conked out when he came in,” she says. “That must have been awkward.”

“A little,” she admits. That’s when she puts the phone down and looks at her, her eyes all soft. “He didn’t mind sticking around though.” Janis’ heart warms at that even more than it already was.

“He wouldn’t,” she whispers fondly. She picks up the remote and leans back on the pillows, a small grunt escaping her. Her mom’s ears-fine turned at this point-prick up and she looks over at her, closing the cover on her phone.

“You feeling okay?” her mom asks.

“Fine,” she says tightly. She shifts around on the bed, trying to find a position that’s comfortable. At some point when Damian was here, she had felt a wave of nausea roll over her and while he had provided a good distraction-and was fine with the two of them just sitting on the bed-now it seems determined to make its presence known. On the plus side, she’s almost certain she’s not going to throw up (not that there’s anything to throw up), but that doesn’t stop the feeling of something clawing its way up her throat. “Mom could you get me some water?”

“Yeah, yeah sure sweetheart.” About five seconds, if even, pass between her asking and her mom thrusting the glass of water in her hands. She stays by Janis’ side as she drinks it, her fingers against her temple. Janis feels the weight of her eyes on her and if she didn’t already feel heavily uncomfortable, she does now.

“Mom?” she begins. Her mom’s eyes light up, her lips moving in a wordless ‘yeah?’. “I’m okay. You can go sit down. Really.” Her mom nods and pats her head before she goes. She even makes a show of taking out her phone and looking at it, although one eye always remains on her.

She doesn’t feel any better by that evening either, despite having spent most of the day laying around in her pyjamas. So in addition to feeling sick, she actually feels pretty gross too. Her clothes stick to her body, top clinging to her spine and her pants twisted around her legs. The invisible feeling slithers over her skin, that feeling of inactivity and laziness, that, even if she knows it isn’t her fault, makes her disgusted with herself. She tosses a pen between her hands just to give her body something to do, lest she slip even lower.

“Hey.” Her mom taps her hand. “I take it you’re not up for going down to the cafeteria.”

“Nope,” she responds. She might be able to make it down there, but she may throw herself across the first empty table she sees. Her mom nods, her hand starting to curl around hers. “You go on, I’ll be okay.” She waves the TV remote. “I’ve got Jeopardy! to keep me company. There’s probably a good movie on tonight too.”

“Okay. What do you want me to bring you up?” she asks. “Pretty sure they’re doing that mac and cheese tonight. I might get that for myself too.”

Despite her mom’s enthusiasm, Janis shakes her head, her jaw clenching at the idea of eating anything.

“I don’t want anything,” she mumbles and the minute she says it she braces herself for the reaction. She makes a bet with herself that she can predict her mom’s response word for word. “I’m okay.”

“Janis, you need to eat something,” her mom says. “Why don’t I just bring you up some fries?”

“I’m not hungry,” she sighs, focussing her attention on the TV and fisting her hand in the covers. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her mom’s stone-cold face cracking and she’s a little surprised if she’s being honest with herself. Normally this goes on for at least three more rounds before her mom relents and makes her promise to eat something later tonight. It’s normally Janis telling her that if she eats something there is a high chance she’ll throw it back up again tonight and a mumbles reminder that no-one wants to go through that. But not tonight.

“Okay,” she says. She stands up and brushes down her jeans. She doesn’t seem annoyed or angry at all, and yet Janis feels guilty all the same. “I’ll be fast. You sure you don’t want some fries brought up?”

“I’m okay.” She shakes her head. “But if they have those bread rolls…” Her voice trails off as relief floods her mother’s face. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

“You want butter with it?”

“If I don’t, I think Dad might appear in here and remind me of my French heritage,” she jokes. “See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

She turns up the volume as her mom closes the door and pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on it and tilting her body forwards. Her spine twinges from the position, but it makes the cramping in her stomach let up, so it’s a burden she’s willing to put up with for now. She takes another shaky sip of water and returns the cup to its precarious position balanced between her pillow and the bedrail. One wrong move from her and her pillow is soaked. It took a significant amount of time to get the cup to balance perfectly like it is.

On the other side of her, her phone buzzes, the screen lighting up and showing her a text from Cady, a simple ‘hey there’ followed by a purple heart. With a gentle giggle, she types a reply.

 _‘What’s up?’_ Cady asks. She hesitates for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen, before carefully typing out her reply.

_‘Not much. Feeling a bit ick rn.’_

_‘Oh,’_ is Cady’s reply, followed by _‘everything okay?’_ Janis can almost imagine her expression, the way her face probably fell slightly when she read it, the concern in her eyes. She probably tapped her fingers on the desk as she replied too.

 _‘I’m fine. Just a little gross. Give me a day and I’ll be peachy again.’_ She follows that up with a little peach emoji, the joke not lost on her but probably lost on Cady. _‘Mom’s getting me bread rn.’_

 _‘Like…. Bread as in money?’_ Janis snickers at that, half-covering her face with her hand.

_‘No. As in actual bread.’_

_‘Ah. It’s the French side of you coming out.’_ Janis sends a little French flag emoji and scrolls through until she finds the chef’s kiss emoji too, committing to the art.

 _‘What’s happening with you?’_ she asks. Cady doesn’t respond with a text or an emoji, rather she sends a photo of her desk; three piles of closed notebooks and one open on the table, covered in six different colours of pen and little neon markers sticking out at the sides like little flags. Behind it, the curtains are drawn and the scene is lit up by the desk lamp and nothing else. Janis is just about to make a comment on the when Cady sends another photo, this time of herself wearing a dark blue hoodie that’s at least one size too big for her, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail and waving a French fry sitting on a fork at the camera. And oh god, her face, one cheek puffed out and her eyes bulging. Adorable doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 _‘Party for one, I see.’_ She opens the photo again and narrows her eyes, a detail catching her eye. _‘Is that my hoodie?’_

Cady is silent at first, and then,

 _‘Oh shit is it?’_ Janis zooms in on the photo and turns up the brightness on her phone, just to make sure.

_‘Yep. The forbidden planet one. Legit forgot I owned it.’_

_‘Oops,’_ Cady says. The little dots appears in the next second, dancing in their little wave. _‘Do you want it back?’_

 _‘Sure, give me a second I’ll jump in the truck and come to yours, you can toss it out the window to me. Like a gay version of the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet_ ’ she teases. _‘It’s fine Caddy. You hold onto it. I didn’t even notice it was gone. Besides,’_ she adds. _‘You look cute in it.’_

 _‘I knew it was comfortable for a reason,’_ Cady replies, and despite being alone, Janis buries her head in her arms to hide her blush.

She really hopes this part of their relationship never goes away; the part where she gets stupid happy at silly, sappy things like this. Whatever else changes, she hopes this never does.

 _‘Anyway,’_ Cady goes on. _‘I actually did want to talk. Basically, I’m pretty booked a lot next week, but I miss you, and I wanted to ask if you want to Face Time one day next week? I know we have Friday nights but….. you know’_

 _‘I do know,’_ she replies, giggling into her sleeve. They go back and forth working out the finer details, Janis factoring in her medicines and the days she tends to be at her best and Cady looking through their own busy schedule and after they move around a study session, they pencil it in for Wednesday night.

 _‘I’ll even wear pink for you,’_ Janis teases and Cady replies with a stuck-out-togue cat emoji.

 _‘I should probably hit the books again,’_ they reply, this time followed by a sad cat emoji. Something Janis has noticed about Cady is that if they can, the emoji they send will be one of the cat ones. She’s wondered about that. Maybe because they remind them of their lions back in Kenya.

At that moment, her mom comes through the door carrying two little plastic cartons and a napkin-wrapped bread roll on top of them.

_‘Yes you should. My dinner’s here too anyway.’_

_‘I thought you said you were getting bread?’_

_‘Yes. Bread is my dinner,’_ she explains, like it should be obvious. _‘Trust me, it’s all I can eat right now.’_ Cady falls silent on their end as Janis takes the bread from her mom and whispers a ‘thank you’, and she bites her lip. Maybe that was a kind of ‘need-to-know-basis’ kind of joke. She flips the phone in her head, her free fingers drumming on her leg as she debates sending a follow-up message assuring them she’s fine.

She’s about a second away from doing so when Cady replies.

_‘Enjoy your carbs. I’ll see you later. Xx.’_

It makes her smile, but it doesn’t help her breath any easier. She thought that at this point, she’d know where the line is in regard to that kind of humour. That she’d understand that just because her fellow patients are fine laughing at it doesn’t mean her other friends necessarily will be. But her attempts to separate parts of herself into ‘hospital brain’ and ‘normal brain’ have proven unsuccessful so far.

Live and learn, she guesses.

“So I did grab you some pasta,” her mom says as she slides the other container onto her tray table with a guilty expression on her face. She holds her hand up in defence when Janis looks at her, a response apparently written on her face. “Hey, just in case. They even said to take some up to you or it’ll be thrown out tomorrow.” She shrugs helplessly. “Aren’t you the one who loves the environment?”

“Yeah,” she says. She leans over and takes a look. The container is still warm, steam fogging up the lid. Some sort of creamy sauce and green veg over thick strands of pasta. It would look lovely any other day, but now she turns up her nose and moves away from it. “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” she says, tucking into her own dinner. “You know on the way up; I saw that that support group is on tonight. Apparently it runs a few times a week.”

“Is that so?” she asks, paying more attention to her bread than her mom. Behind her, her mom tenses, and she pretends she doesn’t notice. If she wanted to talk about her feelings, it wouldn’t be with her mom, much as she loves her.

“Just keep it in mind if you ever think you need it,” is all she says before turning on the TV. An air as cold as the one outside settles over the room, and guilt mixes in with the nausea in the most unsettling way possible.

It’s not that she doesn’t think she needs a support group. It’s that she already has one; Cady, Damian, her parents. She’s as supported as she needs to be. Plus, all things considered, she thinks she’s doing okay.

She’s not anti-therapy. Hell, she’s been through it and knows she came out the other end stronger because of it. But that was different in a lot of ways. That was her and her therapist, alone in an office, communicating through art. She’s peeked through windows on that support group before, everyone sitting in a circle spilling out their feelings. And that may well be good, but it’s not for her.

Still though, her mom was only looking out for her. She, like her, is doing her best.

“Thanks Mom,” she says. “I’ll think about it.”

Her mom nods and leans back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing as she fills her in on the latest dining room gossip.

******

Late on Wednesday afternoon, Janis pulls one of the chairs into the bathroom and positions it in front of the mirror, her various bits of make-up spread across the sink. Not for the first time, she considers just buying herself a mirror and saving herself the trouble. Even if the bathroom does have really good lighting.

“Do you put on make-up every time you talk to your girlfriend?” Maddie asks from behind her. She’s laying across her bed, watching the world upside-down and her legs dangling off the edge. A few minutes ago she had texted Janis complaining she was bored and Janis, sharp as she is, took the hint and asked if she wanted to hang out in her room while she did her make-up. She know that when she was that age, few things made her as happy or as fascinated as watching her older cousins doing their make-up. She would sit in the corner of their rooms with wide eyes, completely captivated by their tricks. And Maddie, apparently, isn’t much different, albeit she’s far more talkative than Janis was at that age. Not that she minds at all. “Like when you’re just going to hang out, do you put make-up on for that.”

“Sometimes, yeah.” She turns towards her, holding up two eyeshadows. “What do we think? The green or the red?”

“Well, what are you going to be wearing?” Janis answers by gesturing to what she already has on; a dark blue top, embroidered with silver stars, and her leggings. Maddie considers, her face scrunched up in concentration, before she replies. “The red. It’ll make your eyes pop.”

“And you claim you don’t know make-up,” she says, turning back to the mirror.

“But do you?”

“Do I what? Know about make-up?” she scoffs, ready to tell her that she’s been perfecting this skill for years, when Maddie interjects.

“No. Like, wear it all the time. Or is it just for your girlfriend?” she asks. Janis pauses, the lid of a tube of mascara half-twisted off. Truth be told, she doesn’t know how to explain it completely without sounding corny, or worse, unleashing her tragic middle-school life on this unsuspecting child. That in some way, her heavy eyeliner and dark lipsticks became her shield when she returned to school after a year’s absence, making her look braver than she felt already. And the habit stuck. Even with that behind her now, she still feels braver when her eyes are ringed in black.

“I don’t wear it all the time,” she answers slowly. “I just… feel better with it on. And I want to look nice for Cady.” Behind her, Maddie nods, a silent ‘oh’ on her mouth. Janis turns to her then, her eyes stern and her grip tight on the back of the chair. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone. I wear it because I want to.” She shrugs. “And sometimes I don’t. Like here, I hardly wear it at all. Bigger things to worry about.” She looks pointedly at Maddie. “Make sure that whether you wear it or not, it’s because you want to. Not because you think you have to.”

“Yes ma’am,” she laughs, though whether or not it’s out of discomfort Janis isn’t sure. She jumps off the bed and runs over, her footsteps light and quick, and she comes to a halt right beside her, watching her work with fascination. “When I get a girlfriend,” she declares. “I’m going to do exactly what you’re doing.” She nudges her shoulder. “You’ll teach me how, right?”

“Of course I will,” she says, and it sounds a lot like a promise.

Maddie skips on out of the room when it gets closer for the time Cady’s meant to call, not before making kissy faces at Janis though. She shoos her out of the room but doesn’t even bother to hide her smile as she does so.

She settles herself on the bed and opens her laptop. Cady said she’d call her, but she opens the app just in case, wanting to be ready and also checks her make-up in it. Not a bad job, if she may say so. Glancing up at the clock, she finds she still has a few minutes, so she opens up Twitter and wastes the time there, even if she does check the time every thirty seconds or so, getting more and more giddy each time the number changes. By the time the clock makes it to six, she’s practically squealing.

Cady doesn’t call right away, but she doesn’t think anything of it. She’s probably busy or her clock’s slow or hey, they didn’t say exactly six. Janis is a few minutes late to stuff all the time. So she plays around on Twitter for a few more minutes, filling time until it’s 6:05. And Cady still hasn’t called. Her hand grows cold and curls into a fist at that, her nails pressed into her palm so she can’t bite them. She takes a deep breath, her attempt to distract herself again failing this time. She tries not to overthink it, really tries, but it’s been five minutes. Five. She thinks that’s a line.

Five minutes then turns into ten and that’s when it kicks up a notch. She bites down on her nail, her eyes glued to the home screen as one single thought takes up all of her mind; that Cady’s forgotten her. That she found something better to do with some other people and went and did that instead.

Janis bites the inside of her cheek, her chest tight and burning with a familiar kind of bitterness. The kind that spits at other people, that shakes her head and tells her she’s better off without them anyway. It’s harsh and hurtful and it shouldn’t be associated with Cady. But it is.

Despite her instinct, she waits it out, giving Cady five more minutes to show up. Fifteen minutes is a good cut-off point she decides. All she can do is watch the clock and it’s a reversal of what she was doing just moments before; here instead of going higher, she only plummets lower every time the number changes. By the time it hits 6:15, she’s biting right into her finger and fighting off the urge to cry, the image of Cady texting someone who isn’t her burning into her mind.

But she finds it wasn’t wrong in waiting. Just before she’s about to shut her laptop off, the little ringing noise cuts through the hair and Cady’s selfie fills the screen.

“Janis!” she gasps. She’s not in her room; the paintings behind her are the ones in the Heron’s hallways. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I was tutoring and I meant to be home before six, but it ran overtime and the bus was two minutes late-” As she talks, the scene changes quickly behind her, moving so fast Janis almost feels sick from it, her feet loud on the stairs until she finally reaches her bedroom. “And anyway, long story short, I meant to call at six, I promise. I just lost track of time.” She looks up at her, eyes big and wide and so utterly sincere Janis feels bad for being upset. “I’m sorry, Janis.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I wasn’t waiting that long.” If Cady notices how close her hand is to her mouth, or her bitten nail, she doesn’t say. Instead she settles on the bed and props up the phone against a pillow.

“You sure?”

“It’s fine, Caddy,” she says, and it is. Except it sort of isn’t, and she’s not sure if she can say it was Cady’s fault. “Just… text me about it next time?”

“I will. I will. Sorry,” she says again. They both fall quiet after a while, Cady winding a lock of her hair around her finger, and the silence weighs heavily on Janis’ chest. Old anxieties from long ago jump up at her like a dog demanding attention.

“So who were you tutoring anyway?” she asks.

“Oh, this freshman girl,” Cady explains. “Lily Reynolds. She’s sweet, her mom just wanted her to have a little help with calculus.”

“And she got North Shore’s finest,” Janis remarks, the corner of her mouth quirking up, and Cady giggles.

They’re close to fine after that, the conversation almost as easy as it’s ever been, save for how off Janis feels throughout it. She can’t shake it, no matter how many jokes they make or how many cheesy compliments they throw at each other. The whole thing, much as she loves it, feels like it’s two inches off from where it should be, and she doesn’t like that feeling.

They wrap it up after a little over an hour, Cady needing to start her homework and Janis aware that she’ll start an IV soon.

“Sorry I was late,” she says again.

“It’s okay,” Janis assures her. “Really, Caddy. Shit happens.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’ll see you on Friday?” Janis swallows and her throat feels like sandpaper.

“Yep. See you Friday.” She blows a kiss to the camera before Cady signs off, her cheeks just about to turn pink. She closes her laptop and sits back, her hands wringing in her lap. She feels like she’s just ran around the perimeter of the ward. She shakes her head as if that can make everything she’s feeling just magically fly off her body and she can suddenly be okay. Like she can forget that for fifteen minutes, she genuinely thought her girlfriend had forgotten about her.

She presses her clammy hands together and bites her lip. Hadn’t there always been this fear, since this whole thing started? That her not being there would take a toll on her relationships and that her friends would become used to her absence and move on with their lives? Find new people, or just fill the gap she had left all on their own? And even if it hadn’t happened this time, it was more than enough to shake her. It had always been there, but it hadn’t been so prominent until now.

She leans forward and runs her hand over her face. She guesses with a sad realisation that this is mainly her cross to bear. She can’t talk to Cady or Damian about this, not without saddling them with guilt. The last thing she would ever want to do to either of them is make them feel like they have to pay attention to her for the sake of it. Besides, how would either one of them, or anyone for that matter, understand something like this?

She leans back on the pillows, about to resign herself, when something on the shelf catches her eye, and she remembers something from earlier. And she realises that if the built-in support system isn’t up to it, she might have to check out a new one.

That’s how she finds herself standing a little down from the longue on Saturday, the nails on her left hand nearly picked clean off of her and her heart in her mouth. She checked the flyer Cassie gave her way back when at least five times this morning, committing the room and the time to memory, leaving no place for error. Cancer Youth Support Group, longue, 2:30pm, Saturday afternoon. Every week. Plus extra sessions during the week.

A voice in her head that doesn’t sound like her tells her to turn tail and go back, make up some story to her mom about changing her mind. That this isn’t her, not what she does and that above all, she can’t do this. She can’t go in there, in front of so many other people, and talk about her stupid insecurities and expect them to get it.

But that little voice fades out, overwhelmed by one that does sound like her, that tells her that even if she thinks can’t do this, she has to try. That she’s okay. And since the alternative is stewing in her own complicated emotions by herself, she strides up to the door, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

The door is opened by a young-ish woman in a yellow polo shirt, the logo she recognises at the cancer centre on the chest. Her eyes grow wide upon seeing her and Janis shifts on her feet. Behind her, a dozen or so kids sit in a circle on plastic chairs, like they used to do in elementary school. Melissa is among them, and she gives her a small smile when she sees her. The tightness in her chest eases at that.

“You got room for one more?” Janis asks and the woman nods, all soft smiles and even softer eyes.

“Always,” she says. “Come on in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make a happy author :)
> 
> and if you have time and feel like you want to make a difference, here's a carrd concerning a really important issue:
> 
> https://saveuyghurmuslims.carrd.co/


	18. Cady

The sky is grey as Cady crosses the front yard to school, a dark, dusty kind of grey. She pulls her jacket tighter around her body; the air gets colder every day. She doesn’t hate winter, but she doesn’t love it either. She tilts her head up to the sky, a heavy weight in her heart as she misses the sun and the blue sky and fluffy white clouds. The world feels so small when the weather is like this.

She rubs her hand over her face, a low groan escaping her lips of its own accord. It’s not just the cold that makes her wish she was still in her bed; she doesn’t think she’s been this tired before, ever. The kind of low-battery, foggy-brained, running on fumes kind of tired. She blinks heavily and shakes her head, her exhaustion settling into her bones as the day ahead stretches out before her.

Last night hadn’t been ideal.

Sleep hadn’t come easily. Every time she got under the covers she was up again not five minutes later, her body feeling like there was a live current running through it. She gave up fairly quickly, instead distracting herself the best way she knew she could; by opening her textbook and working through the pages until she found she had finished the chapter. And so she turned it over and started the next one. They hadn’t covered that yet, but it was fine. She knew that she could teach it to herself, and that’s exactly what she did. Time melted away, just her and her pen and what became pages of notes that must have been legible that one point but blurred and distorted and turned into black scribbles that were one degree away from senseless.

She had her phone too. She keeps it on all night now. Just in case she had told herself, but it’s not like anything came from it. Not at that hour of the night. Not that there had been anything earlier either. Not a text, not a phone call. No posts from her either.

Three days. That had been how long it had been since she last heard from her in any capacity.

Cady shakes her head, cursing at herself under her breath. She rubs her eyes, debating whether or not she has time to run to the shop at the end of the road and buy breakfast. She had ended up crashing out some time after 2 am only to be woken up by her mom what felt like minutes later, hysterically telling her she was late for school. And her overtired, overworked brain took a minute to compute it before she jumped off the bed and before she knew it she was running down the stairs and thanking God for her dad being able to give her a ride there. If it isn’t cool for a senior to be driven to school by her parents, she really, really couldn’t care less.

She takes a deep breath and reaches into her pocket. She feels herself becoming more centred, her feet once again planted on the ground, and she realises that in her haste this morning, she’d forgotten to check her phone. Not like it’s a necessity for her, but it’s nice to keep up with the rest of the world and she won’t get a chance to check it properly for a few hours. Just in case there’s something important there that she can’t miss.

So she takes her phone out and pauses for a minute before turning on her data. Duh, Cady, what else would you do? Not like you can use the WiFi way out here. And she waits and she watches. Watches as her calendar reminds her she has a tutoring session after school today, watches the Mathlete groupchat pile up, watches as people like her tweet. She sorts through each like, and her heart falls a little more each time. She tenses when she gets a message and deflates when she sees it’s from Taylor, asking to borrow her biology notes. She goes through her apps and her messages one by one, checking every icon that pops up, some twice, before she finally nods and accepts it.

Nothing from Janis.

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder. She honestly doesn’t know if she’s allowed to feel this way. Whatever she’s feeling. Just… three days without talking to her girlfriend is harder than a lot of people might think it is. Maybe she’s just being dramatic. She probably is. After all, Janis seemed fine the last time she saw her. She just misses her, misses her presence, misses holding her hand and doing nothing with her. And at least-

_Bam!_

Pain bursts across her cheek, her cold skin turning hot in its wake as something smacks her in the face. She stumbles and almost falls, her balance failing her until the last possible moment. She closes her eyes tightly until the world feels steady again and she catches her breath. When she opens them, there’s a soccer ball rolling across the ground.

“Hey… are you okay?” There’s a hand on her shoulder and she turns around, finding herself facing a couple of awkward-looking freshman boys, all with zipped-up jackets and glad in gloves and beanies. She blinks at them, words catching in her throat. Whatever they asked her, it had faded away the moment they said it.

“We’re sorry,” one of them says. “We didn’t mean to. He-he just doesn’t know how hard he can kick.”

“It’s…. it’s fine,” she manages. She clears her throat again and straightens up. “It’s really fine. I’m fine.” She is. It’s just a soccer ball, no matter how hard it gets kicked. They didn’t mean it, and the pain is next to nothing now, a slightly warm flush to her cheek the only indication that it even happened. She’s okay. It didn’t even hurt that much.

Then why is she crying?

She backs away from them, away from their wide eyes and confused worry, as the yard begins to spin. She covers her mouth just as another sob wrecks through her body and this one is so loud that everyone hears it.

She sees herself turn away from them, sees the school get closer and closer and then she’s tearing through the halls, her head down and her hair falling past it. Hands come on her shoulder and fall away in the next second. She doesn’t know where she’s headed, why she’s running, all that she knows is that she can’t be where she is now.

She falls into a bathroom stall and pulls the lock over it, securing her in. She presses her back against the wall and pulls her knees against her chest. Her chest hurts, her throat, her head. Hurts from holding it back and shoving it down. This is the worst place she could be, confined in four walls all so close to her and the door bolted, even if that was her own choice. And who knows who else out there, listening to her.

She wishes she were on the roof staring at the sky, or in the park, or better still, back in Kenya, standing atop a cliff with no-one looking at her. Where she could scream until her throat is torn apart and cry until there was nothing left in her. If she was there she could let her voice mix with the wind and be carried away by the wind, let out everything she’s kept locked up inside. But instead she’s in here instead, and she has class, so all she can do is swallow her feelings and cry into her knees until the bell rings. It helps, but not by much.

Damian doesn’t say anything when she sits next to him. But he does hold her hand tighter than he ever has before.

*****

If Cady was exhausted that morning, she stumbles through her door eight and a half hours later a complete corpse. Not a figure of speech; she catches sight of herself in the mirror and flinches at what she sees. Her skin is paple and dark smudges stand out under her eyes, her hair is tangled and messy and falling out of the ponytail-bun she put it in at lunch. She leans against the wall and leans her head against the wall as a long rush of breath escapes her lungs. She keeps her eyes open only because she feels if she closes them, she’ll pass out right here.

At least she’ll probably fall asleep easier tonight.

She pushes herself off the wall and heads to the kitchen. Her lunchbox is still mostly full; she wasn’t really hungry today. Maybe she’ll reuse it tomorrow, she thinks. Her hand is on the doorknob and she’s two seconds away from turning it until she hears a voice that’s familiar but doesn’t belong in her house.

“And you’ve seen them work before?”

“Oh they worked wonders on the kids in Africa,” her mom says. “And we don’t need them here. You take as many as you need, Lauren.”

Cady’s eyes go wide. Janis’ mom? In her house? She presses a hand to her mouth and slowly lifts her hand from the doorknob. She presses herself against the wall and freezes, all her attention focussed on what’s on the other side of the door.

“Thanks so much,” Laura sighs. “I mean when Janis mentioned these, I know she wasn’t thinking about herself, but you know, I think they’ll be perfect for her.” She chuckles, but it doesn’t sound right. Too dark. “That is, if she’ll agree to eat them.”

“Well we have ones with little chocolate chips in them,” her mom adds. But Cady knows that isn’t what Laura meant, and her mom must know it too. “And the kids back in Kenya all liked them. As did Cady’s friend last year. Besides, they just take up space here now.” Kalteen bars, Cady realises, and among the prick of guilt, she puts the pieces together and feels sick at what it must mean. “If nothing else, it’s worth a try.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Probably healthier than bulk buying her donuts and letting her rip into them.”

“You do not.”

“Last week Alex came in with a whole box,” Laura says. “Her doctor doesn’t disapprove. Anything to keep her weight up, he says. Everything else goes out the window.”

Cady closes her eyes, her nails digging into her cheeks as she pictures Janis, her Janis, and how thin she is now. Her collarbone poking out of her skin, how loose her bracelets are on her wrists now. How when she holds their hand, Cady feels like she might crush her if they hold too tightly. She never told her she was worried about it, but she can never ignore it either. She just didn’t know if it was something to worry about.

Well, guess she has an answer now.

“She’s digging her heels in about the meat thing though,” she goes on. “I can’t count how many times she and Alex have had that talk. She swears she’ll wither away before she eats an animal.”

 _That’s my girl_ Cady thinks, pride blooming in their chest. 

“Well, she’s stubborn,” Cady’s mom says with a note of admiration. “You couldn’t shake that out of her.”

“I know,” Laura sighs. “Kind of wish I could though.” Cady takes a step backwards at that. She feels as though she’s crossed a line just by listening. That this isn’t any of her business, even if it is about Janis. Not every detail of her girlfriend’s life is about her. “Anyway, thanks for these, Rachel.”

“Oh, any time Laura.” Cady pauses. She doesn’t think her and Janis’ moms have ever exchanged more than a few words with each other. Not hostile, but not friendly either. Just casual, polite, formal conversations while one waited for their daughter to be ready. Heck, one day she and Janis had actually tried to quote “parent trap our parents” (Janis’ choice of words) and try to force them into being best friends. Cady had been cautiously optimistic, but gave up before Janis did, reminding her that they can’t force their moms to bond. If it happened, it’ll happen.

Who knew that when it did, it would be over Kalteen bars?

“And… Cady?” Laura asks, and she jumps at it, looking over her shoulder like she’s about to be caught. “How’s she holding up?”

“Oh she’s… she’s holding,” her mom says. “Tough as nails that one.” There’s a pause, and then, “I’m so glad they found Janis. You know, I never thought I’d see Cady as happy as they were when we first moved here, but then I see them with Janis and it’s just…” She sighs. “You know.”

“Yeah. Janis is the same,” Laura says. “You know… oh she’ll kill me if I tell you this. But sometimes when Janis is on painkillers at the hospital… she’ll just start babbling on about Cady.” She laughs, and her mom does too. Cady doesn’t, but her cheeks glow pink. “I’m just so glad she’s got Cady. I mean she’s always had Damian, but still. I think Cady’s keeping her sane, you know?”

Cady gasps a little. She her eyes are wet, but unlike this morning, she’s not hurt. She’s never doubted that Janis likes her. She’s wondered why sometimes, but she’s not really doubted it before. She just never thought she meant that much to her either. And dare she say it… it feels good.

Cady hears the scraping of chairs and jumps from the wall, running over to the door and opening it. When the kitchen door opens, she’s just stepping through it, twirling her keychain around her finger.

“Mrs Sarkisian,” they greet. “Um, Laura. Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just came round for coffee,” she explains. She shifts her large shopping bag behind her. “How was school?”

“Oh you know,” they say. “Same old, same old.”

“So your mom tells me that you’ve applied to Carnegie Mellon,” she says. “That’s a great school. You’re applying for math, right?”

“Yep, that’s right,” she replies. “Uh, it’s mathematical sciences, so it’s tough, but it’s everything I love, so…” She tugs on the straps of her backpack, the tension visible only to her. “So… how’s Janis doing?”

“You know,” Laura says. “Powering through it. She misses you.”

“I miss her too.” Her hands tighten on the straps. “Would you tell her for me?” Laura’s face softens at her request.

“Of course I will, kid.” Laura pats her shoulder, a fond smile on her face before turning to Cady’s mom. Cady’s eyes are drawn to Laura’s bag, where the boxes of Kalteen bars are sitting. They seem to burn through the fabric and fill the room with smoke. They hold Cady’s attention to tightly that she doesn’t even notice Laura leaving until the door is closing behind her and her car starts up in the driveway.

“So… how was school?” her mom asks. 

“Fine,” she says.

“And how was your tutoring?”

“Hm?”

“Your tutoring,” she says again. “After school, you said you were tutoring.”

“Oh yeah, that was fine,” she says. She folds her arms tightly over her chest. There’s a phantom sting on her cheek from where the ball hit her this morning, even if the redness has long since faded. As have the tears, but the worry never does. She can see the Kalteen bar in her mind’s eye, sitting on Janis’ table, and wonders if she’ll ever tell her.

“I’m going to go start my homework,” she mutters, and she’s running up the stairs before her mom can say anything else.

*****

Cady jolts awake, a yelp emitting from her throat and a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She pushes herself, her hair a tangled mess in front of her face and blinks until her eyes can stay open on their own. Her room doesn’t feel familiar at first, her bed not her own. She waits, panting heavily like she’s finished running, until the ringing dies down and the ground beneath her starts to feel solid. She drags a hand over her face and shakes her head, her mind feeling rusty and lagging like an old car engine.

It takes her a minute to register another sound, not in her head, and another minute still for her to put two and two together and reach under her pillow to grab her phone and turn off the alarm.

She does know it’s wrong for her to sleep with her phone under her pillow like that. It’s a fairly recent decision, taken after one day when the impossible happened and Janis texted her when she was asleep. It’s not the best plan, the health risks alone would kill her poor father if he found out, but it’s fine. She’s made it this far without something happening to her, and it’ll only be another two months. And besides, it wakes her up.

She pushes herself off the bed and wobbles as she rises, her legs unsteady. She stretches out her back, her spine creaking like an old rocking chair. Damian has made jokes about his body feeling like an old man’s, and while she’s laughed, she’s never understood it until now.

When she turns around, she’s greeted with the sight of her textbooks and notes strewn across the bed and around the floor, mostly sprawled open and all tossed haphazardly. She rubs the back of her neck, embarrassed even if she’s alone. The sight of her books treated so carelessly unsettles her, almost making her guilty. She’s used to treating her school things with respect, or at least being gentle with them. Her friends call her type A, or a nerd, but she knows how lucky she is to have books like these. Since her first day in North Shore, she’s treated them with the care they deserve.

She makes up for her misstep by picking them up carefully, smoothing out the bent spines and creased pages. She realises she doesn’t actually remember “going” to bed last night, other than moving her studying from the desk to the bed. As she picks up her notes she finds highlighters and pens as well, hiding in the folds of her duvet. It comes back to her, sitting up with the pages against her legs as she worked, and then a fuzzy image of her lying down comes to mind. She’s pretty sure the light was still on when she did, as she told herself it was just for a minute.

“Famous last words, Cady,” she whispers to herself. Satisfied with how her bed looks, she slides her phone out of the waistband of her jeans, having almost forgotten to check it. Like she ever could, really. It was a habit she picked up in her plastic days and has hardened in the last months, and one she pays for with headaches and itchy eyes. She honestly wishes that she could stop, but she keeps going anyway, her one excuse is that it’ll end once this is all back to normal.

And sometimes, it pays off, like today, when at the top of the screen is a message from Janis, and her heart does a flip. It’s a long one too, two actually because it’s Janis and of course she did that. One hand types in her passcode while the other dances and fidgets at her side.

 _‘Hi babe,’_ she says. _‘I’m sorry, I know it’s been a hot minute. I’ve just felt pretty out of it these past few days. Nothing I can’t handle. Anyway, miss ur face a lot. And the rest of u. So what’s happening on ur end?’_

Cady presses her hand to her mouth to keep the squeal inside. In amongst the delight and the ecstasy of it, there’s this immense feeling of relief washing over her, coming from too many places for her to pin down. But it doesn’t matter. Janis is texting her, and that means she’s fine, and that’s all that matters.

_‘I really am sorry it’s been so long. I wasn’t like, really sick or anything, I was just really tired a lot of the time and I didn’t want to text you when I wasn’t physically capable of holding a conversation. And I know you’re busy with school and Mathletes and stuff. Anyway, yeah, still miss ur face. Text me when u can???’_

Cady sits down on the desk, pressing her thumb into the wood as she reads the messages again, once for joy and the second because well…. Janis was tired, she says. That’s not abnormal, she’s tired most of the time. So it shouldn’t bother her like it does.

She takes a deep breath and replies, telling her that it’s fine that she’s been quiet (it is) and that she misses her too (she does) and that she’s been seriously busy (she wishes that weren’t true) and then finishes it off with a reminder that she misses her (because it’s seriously, seriously true). She hovers for a minute, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. Of course, she thinks. She’s probably on a round right now.

She’s downstairs when it hits her that Janis didn’t mention the Kalteen bars at all, and she doesn’t know how she feels about that.

******

“You doing okay?” Damian asks her. They’re standing at his locker; the hallway mostly empty which is a miracle in itself. This one time on this one day is one of the few times the two of them can run to their lockers without being swamped, and the added bonus is that they can hang out for a few minutes too. Right now, Damian is looking at them through narrowed eyes, seemingly searching for an answer. They just shrug at him and tug on the straps of their backpack.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You just seem a little bit… on edge today,” he says. “Something happen?”

“No, no.” They shake their head firmly, their ponytail swinging with the momentum. It’s only now that they realise they’re tossing their phone between their hands. They turn it on quickly before making a point of shoving it in their pocket. They shake their hands out, ignoring they feel without it. “Nothing like that, really. In fact, I’m great.” He raises an eyebrow, which translates to a rather sarcastic-sounding _really?_

Cady has to wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that she can now understand Damian’s eyebrow movements.

“Well, I got a text from Janis this morning,” they say, folding their arms for emphasis. “So yeah, I’m doing pretty good.”

“Oh,” he says, and his lips curl into a smirk and then to a smile, his face growing soft. Something in the air shifts, the tension fading as the few people in the hallway fade away and he says gently, “I’m glad she’s back.”

“Yeah,” they whisper as he closes his locker. “Same here.”

It’s more than just having her back; they think as Damian slings his arm around their shoulders and walks them down the hall. Yes, they missed her, but it’s more a confirmation than anything else; that she’s okay, despite everything, that mentally and physically she’s doing what she needs to be doing. That she’s on the right track, and soon they’ll all be back to normal.

They wonder if Damian feels the same, if he has a similar prick of anxiety every time his phone buzzes. He seems to be handling this far better than they are, dancing along where they’re stumbling. Not that he isn’t worried, he’s just handling it better than they are. They’re glad of it and they sure as hell hope

Damian leaves them off at their history class. He gives them a friendly pat on their head, but his smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes, a look on his face that if they didn’t know any better, they’d call worried.

“You take care of yourself, okay?” he asks, his voice all gentle and soft.

“Sure,” they say, although they don’t quite get what he means. The question came out of the blue. “Um… you too.” He nods and pats her shoulder again, that look of parental concern staying in his eyes. There’s an awkward pause, and Cady’s about to turn to go into the class before he pulls them into a quick, tight hug. He squeezes their shoulder one last time before he finally walks away, the ghosts of his arms still lingering around her body.

Cady stands and watches him go, waving to some people, chatting to others. He looks the same as he always has, just Damian, bundle of laughs, giver of hugs, human teddy bear Damian. And they feel immensely stupid. This whole time they’ve been assuming that Damian is handling this thing pretty well, better than they are anyway. They guessed it helped that he comes equipped with a sunny outlook on life, and so believed he was fine. All it took was a hug to prove them wrong, and he probably didn’t even know he was doing it.

They turn and head into the classroom, a feeling of helplessness clinging to their back.

The history lesson is interestingly enough. History isn’t a particular strong suit of Cady’s, but they don’t hate it either. It’s kind of fascinating, learning about the past, there’s just so much information to consume and regurgitate. And reading, so much reading, cherry picking the ‘important parts’. Unlike math, where everything is important. Janis likes it though. She’s even said that even if she’s planning on doing art next year, she might apply for history as a back-up. Cady doesn’t quite understand the appeal of it, and while it’s usually interesting enough to keep their brain engaged, today they’re far too distracted to pay attention.

About halfway through the class, when Ms Winters is still getting to the point about the industrial revolution, Cady feels their phone vibrating against their leg. They almost drop their pencil in shock, their eyes bulging wide. As they look around, they can see no-one else heard it, although they also feel the weight of more than a few looks on them, their expressions half-concern, half-pity. Like ‘oh poor Cady whose girlfriend has cancer’.

Their cheeks flame red, but they slide their phone out of their pocket anyway, eyes trained in front of them until the last possible minute. Another trick from their plastic days. Their fingers swipe across the screen as though guided by invisible hands and when the moment is right, when Ms Winters’ back is turned completely, their eyes move downwards.

They’ve barely started replying to Janis before their name is called and they actually leave the seat for a moment when they jump. When they look back up, they’re met with the sympathetic eyes of their classmates and the irritated gaze of their teacher, stopped in the middle of writing. The word “legislation” is half written on the whiteboard.

“Something you’d like to share, Cady?” she asks.

“No.” They swallow and their throat feels like sandpaper. They clear their throat and try again, louder this time. “No ma’am.”

“Mm-hm.” Ms Winters steps over in their direction. “And what’s on your lap, Cady?”

“Nothing.” They turn the phone over and attempt to press it between their legs, knowing putting it in their pocket is too much of a risk. Ms Winter’s eyes harden and Cady’s stomach drops.

“I’m not an idiot, Cady,” she says. “And I’ve been teaching a long time. I’ve found out people far more subtle than you are right now.” She holds out her hand and Cady bites back a scream. “Hand it over.”

“No.” They aren’t sure they actually said it at first, convinced it was just something in their head, until they see the disbelieved expression on Ms Winters’ face.

Around them there are two types of people. Those who watch on with concern and those who watch like it’s the latest episode of their favourite drama.

“I’m sorry?” she asks.

“Sorry,” they mumble. “I just-I can’t. I can’t give you it.”

“And why is that?”

“Because-” It sticks in their throat. There are words in their mind, true as true can be. But when they open their mouth, nothing comes out, but their grip on their phone grows tighter. Anxiety builds and builds inside them and they’re just left stuttering, their face growing hotter and Ms Winters getting more impatient. Eventually they look up at her through blurred eyes and whisper “Please.”

“Nice try, Cady,” she says, not unkind but not kind. “But you know the rules. Hand it over and you can have it back later.”

Cady looks around as if someone will help her, but no-one does. Of course no-one does, what can they do except look upset and mouth ‘I’m sorry’ at them.

Slowly, they hand their phone over, the air feeling more like mud that they drag their arm through. Ms Winters takes their phone and they let out a little squeak when it’s taken away. Like she’s taken away a limb instead of a phone.

They can’t pay attention for the rest of the class. They can’t even work up the effort to pick up their pen. They can only sit there with their dry eyes and empty chest, their mind spiralling as they watch the minutes crawl slowly by.

When the bell rings, they make a beeline for the desk.

“Ms Winters?” Their voice sounds so far away. Ms Winters looks up at them, a flicker of annoyance behind her glasses, and Cady clenches their fist at their side. That’s not what’s needed here. “Can I have my phone back? Please?”

“Cady,” she sighs. She looks away from her computer and leans on her desk. “I know you’re a good student. And I know you have some exceptional circumstances this year. But” she emphasises. “I can’t be seen giving out special treatment to students. You know the rules and you know my class policy on phones.” She turns her attention back to her screen and waves Cady dismissively. “You can come back and get it at the end of the day.”

“No!” They sound so strong now, strong enough to shake the trees outside. Now it’s Ms Winters’ turn to jump. “Look I’m sorry, but you can’t take away my phone. Okay I’m begging you. Give me detention, make me do lines, make me do all your marking, I don’t care. Just give me my freaking phone!” They’re so worked up they just about remember to slip in a “Please.”

“Cady-”

“Yes, your policy,” they interrupt. “I know you have a policy on phones, but you haven’t had to enact it on me yet. Come on I’ve had a great record this year. So just give me my damn phone.” Their hands are shaking, tears running down their face. It’s only through sheer willpower they don’t drop their knees. “Come on!”

“I don’t like your tone much,” she says.

“Frankly, I don’t care!” Cady snaps. “I don’t care how you feel about my tone or anything. All I care about is you giving me my damn property back, you cow!”

Ms Winters hears the words before Cady hears them themselves. The ringing in Cady’s hears starts to clear and they hear what they said echoed back at them at double the volume, and their hands fly to their mouth.

That isn’t them. That’s not how they talk to people, to anyone, let alone teachers. Not even when they were plastic. It’s like they set off a bomb in the middle of the classroom and now they’re standing in the debris, watching the smoke clear and being shocked when they see the match in their hand.

It’s then that they realise they didn’t say cow, they in fact said something else, and they feel sick.

Ms Winters splutters at first, but then her face hardens and Cady gulps.

“Well,” she begins. “In all my years of teaching, I don’t think I have ever been spoken to by a student like that,” she whispers. Cady opens their mouth to apologise, but all that comes out is a squeak. “I’ll give a call to Mr Duvall. And see what your parents think of this.”

Cady lets out a gasp and it turns into a sob. It doesn’t feel real, nothing from the past half an hour does. It shouldn’t be, they’re not this kind of person, they know they aren’t. They’ve spent every day making sure they don’t become this. It’s like they’re standing outside watching this happen.

They turn around and head out the door, not daring to ask for their phone this time.

After school, they head down to Mr Duvall’s office. According to his secretary, their parents are on their way. Just the words _your parents_ makes their stomach turn. Maybe the people passing will think they’re sick, pale as they are. They suspect the secretary must think that too, because she moved the trash can closer to them and asked them if they wanted some water.

Ms Winters stalks past them, giving them no more than a sideways glance before heading into the office and for the first time since history class, Cady feels angry. Ms Norbury would never treat them like this. And as out of line as they were, they like to think they might have earned a little bit of sympathy.

“Cady!”

They turn to their mother’s voice, equal parts angry and worried. Their dad is with her, looking bewildered. They shrink into the seat like a little kid and pick at their nails, tearing them off their hands. Their parents take seats on either side of them and they’ve never felt so claustrophobic.

“What happened kid?”

“Didn’t Mr Duvall tell you?” they ask. “I yelled at a teacher.”

“He told us, yes,” their mom says. “But we want to hear your version of events, Cady.” Her hand is on their shoulder and all they can think is how they don’t deserve it. “What happened?”

“She-she took my phone off me.” They realise how pathetic they sound when they say it. “She wouldn’t give it back and I-” Their breath hitches in their throat and their dad wipes their tears before they can.

“And… why were you on your phone in class, Cady?” he asks softly. He reaches over and squeezes their hand. “Or should we guess?”

“I-” They shake their head, the voice in their head urging them to keep it inside. Because if they start now they might never stop. But on the other hand, this weight hurts so much.

They have to take three deep breaths before they can say it.

“I was texting Janis.” Her mom hums in agreement, her hand on their back. “And… I don’t know. I’ve missed her so much.” They look straight ahead at the wall. It’s the truth, but not the real one. “And I…. I keep thinking what if something happens and she calls me and I’m not there to pick up the phone.”

“Something good or something bad?” her mom asks.

“I don’t know,” they confess. “Bad, I guess. I don’t know. I just keep thinking what if there’s some massive development and I don’t know about it. What if-” They almost can’t bear to say it. “I keep thinking what if she’s suffering or she’s really, really sick and I don’t know about it?” They bury their face in their hands. “I’m so scared that next time I see the text from her that it’ll be bad news.” They let out a shuddering breath. “And what if she’s sitting waiting for me to reply and feeling like I don’t care? What if the last thing she saw me say was something stupid?” They press their hands against their mouth. “I can’t… I just can’t-” They choke on something and the last defence comes tumbling down. “And I’m worried all the time. I’m worried about her losing weight and I’m worried about her being sick and about her being tired and I’m just so worried all the freaking time! And I’m tired of it!”

They fall silent after that, slumped forward, exhausted from telling them, from living it. On some level they must have known it, but it feels like they’re realising most of it for the first time. Their head spins with it, Pandora’s Box opened and all that darkness swirling around her mind, threatening to sweep them up and let them get lost in it.

“Oh, Binti,” their mom sighs. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

“Guess I thought I had it under control,” they mumble. They sniffle. “I was wrong.”

“And that’s okay,” their mom says. “It’s okay that you were wrong. What’s important is how you move forward.”

How they move forward? They can’t see forward. They can’t even see right now.

“Mom,” they say quietly. “I know about the Kalteen bars.” Their mom freezes beside them, fingers curling in their hair.

“Oh,” is all she says. Then her arm is around their shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“I… I don’t know how to handle this,” they confess in a broken voice. “I don’t know what to do anymore.!

“That’s what we’re here for,” their dad says. “Okay? We’ll go home, we’ll figure all this out. We’ll make this okay.” He rubs his hand on their leg. “We’ll fix this Cady. Have a big, long talk about it.” He rubs her cheek. “Get all those nasty emotions out. Then we’ll work out what to do, okay?” He strokes her hair. “You aren’t doing this alone, sweetheart.” They feel, more than see, their parents’ eyes meeting over their head. “You shouldn’t have had to. But now we’ll fix it.”

It sounds nice. And even better than that, it sounds doable.

“Okay,” they whisper. “Okay, that sounds good.”

“Great,” their mom says. Just then, the door creaks open, and Mr Duvall asks if they’d like to come in. Ms Winters is already on the other side of the glass and Cady tenses.

“All right.” Their mom stands up and straightens their dress, hitching their purse on their shoulder. “Now, I’ve got a few choice words for this teacher of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are fetch :)


	19. Cady/Janis

Talking helps. It sounds obvious, and maybe it should have been, but talking helps.

They arrive home later than they planned. Their meeting ran overtime, so much so that Mr Duvall actually had to cancel some of his later appointments, and most of that was due to her mom tearing Ms Winters apart like she’s a lion and her teacher was nothing more than a little baby gazelle. She seemed unstoppable, reminding her of Janis being in hospital, chastising her or ignoring what must have been obvious signs of distress, and capping it off with “and if you can’t sanction pupils without confiscating their private, personal property, then I suggest Mr Duvall find your replacement, because that’s not sanctioning, that is authoritarianism!”. By the time she was finished she was leaning over the table and panting heavily, her hands curled into tight fists, and Cady was pressed into the chair, unsure if she should be impressed or scared.

Mr Duvall lets all sides speak, and that includes Cady. It’s agreed on that she’ll have detention the next day, but Ms Winters reluctantly gives her her phone back and after a pointed look, she gets an even more reluctant apology. It’s not much, all very basic, but Cady’s too tired to demand more. All that matters is her phone is back in her pocket. Which is probably more than she deserves here.

Mr Duvall bids her parents goodbye and apologises to them for the mess.

“Cady’s a good kid,” he says in a low voice. “Despite what happened last year which…” His eyes flash to her and back to her parents quickly. “I still think there’s something they aren’t telling us about that.” Cady shifts uncomfortably. Honestly, one drama at a time is all she can handle. “But I know they’re good at heart and we’re lucky to have them here.”

“Yes,” her mom says. “Yes you are.”

Cady throws herself on the couch when she gets in, curling up in a small ball in the corner, her body cold and shaking. The events of that afternoon hang around the room like dust settling on the furniture, and she knows she isn’t the only one who feels it. Her dad is sitting on the arm of the couch, his hand running through his hair, and her mom hovers between them, unsure whether she should sit or stand. Cady feels terrible for doing this, breaking the delicate normalcy their house had lived under. She wonders if she should have kept her mouth shut and kept going as was.

“You want to talk about it?” her dad asks. Cady bites the inside of her cheek, the beating of her heart and the ticking of the clock filling the empty space between them. Her dad reaches out and runs his hand through her hair, his touch just as gentle as it was when he handled the lions in Kenya. She closes her eyes and leans into it, letting it calm the pounding in her head.

She doesn’t know how long it’s been before she finally says, “I’m exhausted.”

“Okay.” A chair scrapes across the floor and her mom settles next to her. “Of what?”

“Of… pretending I’m okay.” Her voice sounds tiny, just a step above a whisper, and she keeps her eyes closed to keep the tears in. “Of spending every minute I have worrying about her.”

“That’s a completely natural reaction, Cady,” her dad tells her. “You remember when your grandpa was sick?”

Cady nods, but she flinches at the memory too. She was eleven when her grandpa got sick and while it’s still a little fuzzy, she remembers how all her dad was so worried almost all the time. But he seemed to handle it better than she’s handling this.

“But just because it’s natural doesn’t mean you have to drown in it,” he continues. “You know you can talk to us about this, right?”

“Yeah.” She opens her eyes, her fingers picking at the cover of the couch. “I just…. Talking about it meant it was real. And I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to be handling it.”

“Oh Binti,” her mom sighs. “And here we were thinking you were handling everything so well.”

“I put on a real good show,” she mumbles.

“Especially with all those extra curriculars you had going on,” she goes on. “Seems to me you didn’t have a moment to breathe…” Cady watches realisation dawn on her mother’s face, followed quickly by concern, and it’s only then that she puts the pieces together herself. “Cady… is that why you took on so much?”

“I…” She thinks hard about it. Did that come into her mind at some point? She had said over and over again that it would look good on a college application and it wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense to her. “I think so. But I didn’t even realise I was doing it.”

“Well the human brain is a funny thing,” her mom says. “Maybe you needed an escape so badly you built one for yourself.”

“Oh,” is Cady’s response. She shifts up into a semi-sitting position and pulls her knees against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. “So what do I do now?”

“Well, distractions are good, but maybe not that many,” her dad says as his fingers run up and down her spine gently. “Maybe you could consider cutting a few out. Even without… everything that’s going on, the last thing you need to do in your senior year is burn yourself out.”

Cady freaks out a bit at his suggestion. She pictures her schedule freeing up, coloured blocks turning white, and she feels herself beginning to spiral. But also, she feels herself breathe, really breathe, for the first time in months. And that’s the reason she slowly nods.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, that sounds good.”

“That’s a start,” her dad says. “But Cady… you can’t keep holding everything in like that. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You’re only going to explode again,” he reminds her. She nods again, her fist clenching at her side.

“Dad… I know,” she says. “But I don’t know if I can right now. It’s just been… a day.” A day is an understatement. She feels like her body’s been dragged through a thornbush and thrown onto the side of the road. She shrugs, looking from her mom to her dad. “Baby steps, right?”

Her dad’s smile drops noticeably, but one look at her mom and he nods.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Baby steps.”

“And here’s another baby step,” her mom says. “You’re having a self-care night.”

“Mom-”

“Binti,” she replies, her tone mimicking Cady’s. That brings a smile to her face. “You need a night off. God knows you’ve earned one.”

“I have homework!”

“Is any of it due tomorrow?” Cady thinks about it, and honestly, she considers lying. But instead she shakes her head slightly, and triumph lights up her mom’s face.

“Good. Now you head upstairs and take a shower, then get into your jammies. And when you come downstairs, we can watch whatever you want. Something young and hip if you want. Like that Project Runaway programme Damian likes.”

“It’s Project Runway, Mom,” she says, rolling her eyes. But there’s a hint of a laugh in her voice and although the sky outside is dark, her world seems brighter somehow. Even by just a shade. She stands up and lets her parents pull her into a tight hug, one that lingers for as long as she needs.

When she pulls away however, the plastic presence in her pocket feels heavier. The thing that started all this to begin with. On one hand she feels like she’s craving the feeling of her eyes on the screen, rabid curiosity and restless worry making her fingers itch to hold it again. And she does, but then, using all the strength she has, she asks,

“Mom, can you hold onto this?” Her phone is held in front of her mom, who looks at her with wide eyes, her hand half-extended to take it. “Just until I get back down. Kind off… I don’t know. Separation therapy I guess.” She presses it into her mom’s hand and wraps her fingers around it. The voice in her head screams at her, her heart doubles in speed, but she takes a deep breath. “Let me know if she calls. Or texts. Or anything. If you see the word Janis, basically, just call me, okay?”

Her mom nods, and relief floods her features, her free hand wrapped tightly around her shoulder.

“Okay, hon. Now you go on upstairs.”

Cady wishes she could say she ran up with little worry, that she smiled and sang and breathed easy, knowing everything was going to be all right. Instead her skin crawled and she sat on the floor of her bathroom with her head in her hands, wondering why the hell she just did that. She wraps her arms around herself, hot water pouring over her, and squeezes her eyes shut, wishing she could take back every single thing that led to this decision.

But then she turns the water off, she takes a deep breath and steps out. When she looks at herself in the mirror, it may be her imagination running away with her, but she swears she looks stronger.

*****

When she goes to the hospital the next Friday, she feels so much stronger than she has before. She had talked it though with her parents last night, the three of them sitting on the couch, her with her feet tucked beneath her and spilling her guts out, letting things bubble up that she hadn’t even known were there. It was far from easy, even with the mug of tea in her hand. It was long and arduous, hours dragging out as she confessed painful truth after painful truth, all the while her parents rubbed her back and murmured encouragement. Sometimes they came up with game plans, strategies for helping her cope. Other times they just held her and told her they were sorry. Both helped though.

Now the discomfort still sits heavily in her stomach, but she knows how to work through it.

She and Damian are the only two in the elevator the whole way there, the move upwards smooth and seamless. She imagines the metals gears whirring around them, the cable holding them moving effortlessly on its little circle, bringing them safely to their destination. She looks over at Damian as the elevator stops; his hands are stuffed in his pockets. He hates hospitals, that’s the explanation he gave her way back when. That they creep him out. And maybe there’s some truth in that, there’s truth in it for her too.

“Hey.” Her hand crosses the short distance between them and tugs on his arm, gently prying his hand out of his pocket and into hers instead, lacing their fingers together. She gives a tight squeeze and looks up at him, a smile on her face even if there isn’t one on his.

“Okay?” she asks. She watches him slowly exhale, then nod. His hand squeezes hers back.

“Okay,” he replies, just as the doors open. They stay linked even as they walk through the ward, waving and nodding to the familiar faces that pass them. They’re known now in the ward as “Janis’ girlfriend” and “Janis’ best friend”. Cady isn’t so sure how they feel about that. She supposes there are worse names to be known by. And the idea of Janis talking about them to the rest of the ward… it stirs up butterflies to say the least.

She’s awake when they knock softly on her door, sitting awkwardly on the bed (how else would she sit) with a sparkly black hat on and flipping through TV channels like it’s just another day. Cady and Damian simultaneously exhale, their joined hands meaning something else now.

“Hey kids,” Janis greets. She shifts slightly and pats the space next to her, and Cady doesn’t need any more invitation. She crosses the space between them and jumps into Janis’ waiting arms, letting her press kisses to the top of her head.

One of the things they talked about last night with their parents was savouring the good moments. “Not that there won’t be more in the future,” their mom had added. “Just make sure you’re not drowning in worry when you’re with her. Just make the most of it.” It’s easier than they thought it would be.

“If you two are going to be disgusting every time I’m just going to stop coming,” Damian announces, perched on the edge of the bed. Janis pulls a face at him, eyes scrunched up and tongue stuck out, to which Damian does the exact same. When Janis laughs, Cady feels it against their cheek.

“Oh, the hair’s making a comeback,” Janis notes. Sure enough, there’s a small scattering of pale brown stubble across Damian’s head, only really visible in certain lights. His hat is in his backpack, stuffed in there after they entered the building. It’s not much, but it goes without saying that it’s better than Janis’.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, and he runs his hand through it. “Wonder if it’ll come back curlier this time.”

“Like when you were a little baby?” Janis asks, and Cady’s head picks up.

“Exactly like when I was a baby,” he says. “Oh, and speaking of babies-”

“Oh my God, Hubbard, what did you do?” Janis asks and Cady only laughs at the sudden change of topic. Hopefully, no-one was walking past the door. “Damian you are not ready to be a father. For the love of sanity at least graduate high school!”

“I am not a father yet, Janis,” he tells her, and he unzips his backpack. “Unless you count my aggressive Mom Friend instincts, then no I am not a parent. I was referring to Maisie. She made you this.” He hands her something folded over, garishly pink and even from this angle, Cady can see how much it’s bulging with stuff. A get well card. Homemade too.

“Aww,” Janis croons. The front is a kaleidoscope of different colours of glitter and adorned with stickers of puppies and the Disney Princesses, as well as shining gold and silver stars and sequins that wink under the light. Inside is a message written in a familiar, careful hand with a big, messy signature at the bottom.

“Dear Janis, get well soon, we miss you so much,” Janis reads. “Please hurry up and get better so we can have a slumber party. Loads of love, Maisie. Followed by approximately forty kisses.” Janis laughs and closes it carefully, laugh lines creasing her face. “Oh my gosh.”

“She may have had some help with the writing,” Damian admits. “But the design is all her.”

“And it’s precious,” Janis says. She places it gently on her bedside table. “Tell her thanks for me.”

“I will,” he says.

“Okay,” Cady interjects. “That reminds me, there was something I wanted to bring up here.”

“We’re switching topics a lot today,” Janis says. “Think we can stay on this one for more than five minutes?”

“Well, it’s important,” Cady says. She pokes Janis in the stomach, eliciting another grin from her. “Your birthday.” She looks from Janis to Damian expectedly. “I mean, it’s only a week away now. What’s the haps?”

“The haps?” Janis echoes. “Okay you have definitely been spending too much time with Regina if that is in your vocabulary.”

“Well for your information, I learned it from the Disney Channel,” they say. Janis snorts, her eyebrows raised. “Anyway,” they say forcefully. They tuck their legs beneath them and give her a pointed look. “So what are we doing? If we’re doing anything.”

“Oh. That,” Janis sighs. She looks over at Damian, just for a second, and suddenly Cady knows more. She’s not the first to bring up this topic and if the look on Damian’s face is anything to go by, he didn’t make progress the first time. They swallow the lump in their throat and wait for Janis’ answer. Between them, their fingers run softly across the back of Janis’ hand. Janis takes a deep breath and turns her hand over, taking Cady’s. “Um… I don’t know. I wasn’t into it before…. But maybe-” Damian gasps, a sunny grin spreading over his face, and Janis looks over at him with her hand raised. “I said maybe, Damian… it might be fun to do something. Something small though.” Her free hand picks at the covers, pulling thread and tangling it between her fingers. “Something we can cancel at a moment’s notice.”

Cady opens their mouth, a question ready, but realisation comes to them at the last minute. Today is a good day, and Janis feels fine, but they know that isn’t always the case. And while they’ve yet to have to cancel for something, but still.

“I don’t really care about my birthday anyway,” Janis goes on. “Not like that. Not in a bad way. I just… you know.” Cady nods, even though she doesn’t really know. “Just something small, okay?”

“Something small,” Cady repeats.

“So, something like Cady,” Damian says. His quip injects some much-needed levity to the conversation, and so she can’t mind about the fact that it’s at her expense. Even though she does lean over and slap him, hard, on the shoulder.

“Oh if you could get me a Cady for my birthday, I’d be more than thrilled,” Janis says, pulling Cady back towards her and kissing their cheek softly. “But don’t worry baby. I don’t mind that you’re a bit short.” She gives her another kiss. “You’re fun-sized.”

“Plus, everyone is short compared to Janis,” Damian adds. “Because you’re a giant,”

“Yes I got that Captain Obvious,” Janis adds. “You’re just very full of it today, aren’t you?”

“I had a double period of physics today,” he tells them. “I have to let it out somewhere. Also I have had a significant amount of caffeine today, mostly courtesy of the double physics.”

“Caddy!” Janis squeaks, slapping Cady’s head. “I thought I left him in your very capable hands!”

“You did…. My very capable hands just happened to be very occupied this morning,” they say. “And therefore… Damian got caffeine and now he’s like this.”

Damian chuckles and bounces up and down on the bed, putting on the perfect picture of madness, and Janis rolls her eyes, but her smile is soft.

“I just can’t leave you two alone, can I?”

Damian has to leave before she does, his mom is working late and him having volunteered for babysitting duties. He hugs Janis tightly before he goes, a quick kiss pressed to her forehead. Cady averts their eyes, pretending to look through a magazine instead. Some moments are just for the two of them.

“So.” Janis jumps on the bed and tucks her knees under her chin. Cady feels the weight of her eyes on them. When they look up, her head is cocked to the side, a slightly confused expression on her face. Someone else might have missed it, but they don’t, and they put the magazine away.

“What’s up?” they ask.

“I… don’t know,” she says. “You doing okay?” 

“Doing okay?” they repeat. Janis shrugs, her smile lopsided, and Cady’s hand creeps across the bed to hold hers. Just a week ago if she had asked that, her answer would have been a lie. But now, “I’m doing okay, Janis. Really.” Janis raises an eyebrow at her, her eyes seeing right through her. “Really I am. Better than I was before, actually.”

“Oh?” She plays it off as casual, but her face creases with worry, a spark in her eyes asking her to tell her everything. Instead Cady just shakes her head. Some things Janis doesn’t need to think about now. That’s not her job. She leans forward and kisses her cheek, swift and soft.

“I got some shit sorted out,” she says. “And that’s all you need to know.”

“All right then, keep your secrets,” she says. She huffs a laugh, her breath tickling Cady’s cheek, and then pulls them into a proper kiss, chaste enough, her fingers tangling in Cady’s hair, her other hand on her hip. Cady giggles slightly against her lips, and leans closer into her, tilting her head slightly, just enough sense left in her to wonder vaguely if Damian closed the door on his way out.

He didn’t, but at least this isn’t the first time they’ve ever been caught kissing in her room.

******

Janis is having a great birthday. Cady decides it on the bus home. Even if she refuses to give them any help whatsoever and they have to bring in streamers and cake and music themselves, they’re giving her one. With all the crap she’s had to deal with up until now, she at least deserves one.

The bad news is that she has absolutely no idea where to start. Even putting aside Janis being annoyingly nonchalant about the whole thing, they’ve never really planned anything ‘fun’ before. Unless you count that house party they had last year, which ended in the most disastrous way possible. They were way in over their head with that one.

This is going to call for back-up. Luckily, they have a pretty good team assembled.

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today,” they declare, standing in their bedroom. Four pairs of eyes look at them expectedly, and one is also rather irritated at being called for an emergency meeting on a Saturday morning. Regina sips her large coffee, silently reminding Cady that they have to make it up to her at some point. “It’s about Janis.”

Regina makes a small noise that translates to a sarcastic _“of course”._ Cady chooses to brush it off and blame it on the morning not agreeing with her.

“So as you guys probably know, it’s Janis’ birthday next week,” they say. “And I want to give her something great.”

“You want us to throw her a party?” Regina asks.

“Not a party,” they say. “Not if she doesn’t want one. Just… something to make her smile, I guess. Something fun.”

“Something fun to make her smile on her birthday,” she repeats, swinging her coffee cup back and forth. “Yeah that sounds like a party to me.” 

“Regina, you are more than welcome to leave if you’re not on board with this,” Cady says, her tone only slightly firm and her expression still calm. She learned that trick from Mrs Norbury. And it works; Regina mumbles an apology and looks down at her shoes.

“Are you sure about this, Caddy?” Damian asks. “I mean… she doesn’t seem to want a party.”

“Hence why it’s not a party,” they say. They push themselves up and sit on the desk, their feet on the chair as they push it back and forth. They let out a heavy sigh and square their shoulders. “Look, if you want me to be honest… I don’t like the idea of her not having anything. I know this year’s different, but it’s still her birthday.” They shrug and toy with the marker in their hands. “I still want her to feel special.”

Out of the corner of their eye, they see Damian’s face soften, probably the only person in the room who understands her. The other three care about Janis sure, but not the way they and Damian do.

“Okay,” he says. “So what’s the plan.”

“The plan is coming up with a plan,” they announce brightly. Three of the four frown and look to each other, wondering who will be the one who points out that really, doesn’t make much sense. Karen is the only one on their wavelength, and she nods knowingly at them.

“I get it,” she says, and she points over at her. “Good plan, Cady.”

“I thought so too.” They move stuff around and reach the big whiteboard tacked to their wall. They had set it up during the summer after buying it online and swearing it would help with schoolwork and organising. And it did, but it feels like this is its true purpose. “Okay, so Damian, you know Janis better than anyone else here. So you’re my vice-captain.”

“Why can’t I be captain?” he asks. “Or even co-captain?”

“Because this was my idea,” they say as they scribble on the board. “So you are our ideas person. We run any and all ideas past you, cool?”

“Cool.”

“Okay and Gretchen, I’m putting you in charge of food,” Cady says. “Pizza, cake, candies et cetra, you got that right?”

The other girl’s face lights up, her fingers excitedly tapping Cady’s bed.

“Of course I’ve got it,” she says. “And I already know where to get the perfect little cupcakes-she likes cupcakes, right?”

“Duh.”

Once they’ve all sorted out who’s doing what and what is being brought where, Cady can’t help but feeling sort of quietly proud. Sort of like the feeling they get after they finish a page of math problems, but not really at the same time. They feel… right is the best word for it.

“Since when did you become a little party planner?” Damian asks from behind her. He’s sitting cross-legged on her bed with a pillow being tossed between his hands. There’s nothing accusatory in his voice, but there is something close to it.

“I just want Janis to have a good birthday,” they say. “That a crime?”

“No.” He rises from the bed then and wraps his arms around her, his chin resting on her head. “It’s real sweet. And if I hadn’t already completely approved of you and her dating, this would have been the one that clinched it.” 

Cady’s glad he can’t see her blush from this angle.

They FaceTime Aaron that night, sitting cross legged on their bed. So many people in school are shocked at how well they’ve stayed friends after the break-up, but Cady isn’t. They knew from the first moment they got to know him that even if they didn’t end up together, they’d be friends. He was cool like that. So much so that even when he went off to college, they stayed in touch, having bi-weekly FaceTime sessions, catching the other up on their week and on how North Shore is doing or telling Cady what to expect from college life.

“Here, let’s see what you make of this,” he tells her, holding up his notes against the camera.

“What I make of it is that your handwriting is atrocious,” they say. “What happened to you?”

“You try taking down notes at literally 50 miles per hour,” he tells them. “Not even you could do that, Cady.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He puts the book away and wraps his arms around his legs, his chin resting on his knee. “So how are you, Cady?”

“I’m fine,” she replies. He nods, his tongue pokes out to the corner of his lip, like he usually does when he’s thinking.

“And how’s Janis?”

“Janis is…” Her voice trails off, unsure of how to condense everything into a few sentences. Aaron knows, of course, she told him back in September, with Janis’ permission. He cares about her too, not as much as her and Damian, or even the Plastics do, but he does. “She’s Janis. She’s running with it.” She takes a deep breath. Normally this is the part where she’d hastily change the subject. One time it got so bad that Aaron was sure they had broken up. And it’s tempting. She almost slips. “She’s… I told you about all that stuff right? Like… her treatment changing?”

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s still happening.”

“Unfortunately,” she sighs. “I swear once this is over, I’m donating everything I have to cancer research.”

“Ever the charitable angel,” he says.

“I mean, it’s her birthday next week,” she says, injecting some much needed levity. “I’m kind of throwing this party for her. Not much, really.”

“Not much,” he repeats. “Like that small get together at your place last year?”

“Hush,” she scolds him. “It’s next Friday night. Don’t suppose you could make it?”

“Next Friday.” He leans over and picks up something that looks like ti was once a notebook but it’s been beaten beyond all recognition. He studies it for a minute and as he does, his expression slowly turns upwards. “I might be able to, actually.”

“Really?”

“As long as I finish all my work in time for it,” he says. “Assignments due all next week, but after that, it would appear I have a whole three days where I’m free.”

“A whole three days?” she says. “Why stop here, go to Disneyworld.” But she laughs then. “That’s awesome, Aaron. I’m so glad you can make it.”

“No problem,” he replies. “So did you get her anything yet?”

“Shit.” Aaron, helpful and sympathetic boy that he is, bursts out laughing at it. “Shut up, Aaron! I’ve been busy! I haven’t really had a chance to go out.” She leans back and draws her hand over her face. “I have ideas though. Rough ideas, but ideas. Maybe I can get out over this weekend.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” he tells her. “Super Tutor Cady Heron with the ever flexible schedule.” She laughs, but there’s a tiny hint of bitterness in it.

“Yeah, maybe not so much of a Super Tutor anymore,” she says. Aaron’s face falls and she waves her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. You don’t want to hear about it. Trust me.” 

“Okay,” he says. “Well, if you ever need to talk to someone, you got me, you know that?” She nods again, chewing on a rag nail, and doesn’t entirely dismiss the thought. Her parents are great, amazing in fact, but they’re still her parents. And Damian, he’s stuck in this as deep as she is. Despite how well he’s handling it, it doesn’t feel fair to overwhelm him. Aaron on the other hand isn’t either of those things. Maybe it’s the physical distance between them, or something else, but the idea of telling him doesn’t freak her out the way telling the others did.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she tells him. “Thanks, Aaron.”

She manages to carve out a couple of hours on Saturday to go present shopping downtown. She initially enlists Damian’s help, but he regrettably tells her that he’s stuck with childcare duties that day, his mom again working. And just to punctuate his point, he sends her a video of Maisie running around the living room in her underwear with the caption _‘unless you want to take this downtown?’_. And while Cady finds Maisie and other little kids adorable, she’s not sure about taking them shopping.

She’s about to resign herself to going in alone, until a fateful message from Regina casually asking what she’s doing tomorrow. And one thing leads to another and before she knows it she’s walking through town with Regina, coffees in their hands, following Cady’s list of gift ideas.

Cady can’t forget the first time she walked through a mall with Regina. She was swamped in a far-too-big pink shirt and utterly captivated by Regina, enthralled by the sway of her hips and the toss of her hair, amazed at how she commanded the room simply by raising her eyebrow. Back then she scurried behind her, pretending to be a meek mouse while secretly studying her latest subject and slowly plotting her downfall.

Now they make light chatter and nudge each other in the ribs, and when they say, ‘that would look great on you’, it’s completely sincere. 

“Do you know what Damian got her?” Regina asks.

“A record. By the Banshees.” Regina nods, but there’s a look of vague recognition her face that Cady feels bad for laughing at. “They’re a band she really likes. He also got her their tour t-shirt.” Regina nods then, a small ‘oh’ escaping her mouth, and she sips her coffee. “So he’s got the music department covered.”

“What about that bookstore we checked out?” Regina suggests. “It had a pretty good feminist collection, didn’t it? Isn’t she into all that?”

“Yes, and if she were here, she’d say you should be too,” Cady tells her. “I might go back there. There’s just one more place I want to try.” They come up on the corner and Cady tugs on Regina’s elbow. “Come on.”

The store is tiny, truly a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of place, nestled in between a health food store and a sportswear store, both at least double its size. And even if she hadn’t been brought here by Janis, she’d immediately associate it with her. The exterior walls are painted black and purple, the name written in a gothic font in white across it. As Cady pushes the dark wooden door open, she sees Regina holding her purse tighter and casting a suspicious eye around the place. She can’t blame her; she clung to Janis the entire time they were first here.

“Don’t worry,” they tell her. “Everyone who works here is surprisingly nice.” As they cross the store’s floor, the employee looks up from the desk, a thin wiry girl with bleached blonde hair and dark skin, and she grins.

“Hey there,” she says. “Can I get you guys some tea?”

“No, we’re fine thanks,” Cady says. She holds up her coffee cup and Regina does the same. The girl nods and goes back to her reading, and Cady smirks at Regina. “See?”

“Through the closet doors and into Narnia,” Regina mumbles. “So what are you looking for, because the vibe I’m getting is a book of hexes or some voodoo dolls maybe.”

“Oh no,” she says. “I already got her books for her last birthday. What I’m looking for is… this.” She leads Regina over to the jewellery counter; a huge brass thing sitting against the counter with three plush purple shelves; one for necklaces, one for bracelets, and one for little trinkets. Ornate designs run up and down the sides, perfect for Cady to trace with her finger as she decides. She thought it gorgeous the first time she saw it, and even Regina has to let out a low whistle.

“So last time we were here, Janis saw this necklace that she was in love with,” she explains. “But she wouldn’t buy it. She was saving for new art stuff. So I started a little saving of my own.”

“God you’re the perfect girlfriend,” Regina says.

“I know,” she says. Her eyes scan the shelves row by row, taking in every piece on display, her anticipation climbing steadily with each one. “Um, excuse me?” The desk-girl’s head snaps up. “Sorry, just, there used to be a necklace here. Like, a specific one. Do you happen to know what happened to it?”

“Depends.” She walks other to them and slips a pair of glasses on. “What did it look like?”

“It was on a black rope,” she says. “And it was silver, in a circle, and it had this little purple gemstone in side of it.” She raises her eyebrows, her fingers curling. “Do you know where it went?”

“Oh, that.” Her tone tells Cady everything she needs to know, and she bites back a groan. “I’m sorry, kid. We sold that one a few weeks ago. I can get another one made for you, but it might be a few weeks before it’s ready.”

“No, no it’s okay,” Cady says. “It’ll be too late by then. Is it cool if we check out the other stuff.”

“That’s what it’s there for,” she tells them with a grin. Cady leans over the counter on her elbows and scans the shelf again, searching for something that says Janis. She looks over every necklace and while each one is lovely, she either owns it or it doesn’t suit her. She does a second look-over to see if there’s anything she missed before squatting even further down to the last shelf. And it’s there that she sees it, three spots inn on the second row. A little dragon statue, shining in dark black with a purple gemstone sitting in its belly, its little head tilted and its tail curled around itself. It’s adorable, and it’s beautiful, and it’s weird, and it’s Janis through and through, to the point where Cady thinks that maybe it’s fate that the necklace wasn’t there.

“Excuse me?” she asks the attendant. Behind her, she feels Regina’s proud grin, and she taps the glass firmly. “How much for the little dragon dude?”

* * *

It’s a series of small miracles that let Janis meet Cady. A miracle that Dr Wiley is confident in letting her go out for a few hours, a miracle that her mom is okay with letting her out and most of all, a miracle that she actually feels like a person today and she can stand on her own two feet. She spent more of this week than she wants to admit either curled up in her bed or bent over a toilet. ON more than one occasion she had been sure she’d have to call Cady and cancel, but her luck turned at just the right moment. The universe certainly has a flair for the dramatic.

“Hey baby.” Cady suddenly appears at her side and pulls her out of her thoughts. Her hair is hidden under a purple bobble hat and she’s looking adorably snug in her parka. She raises up on her toes and presses a quick kiss on Janis’ lips, bumping their nose against hers. “Happy birthday.”

“You remembered,” she murmurs, half-joking. “I’m flattered.”

“Course I did.”

“And my birthday wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with this super-secret even you have planned that you refuse to tell me anything about?”

“Sorry, can’t say,” they tease, but their face gives everything away. They lace their fingers together and pull on their hand, white smoke appearing in front of their mouth as they giggle. “Now come on. We’re going to be late.”

“For the thing that has nothing to do with my birthday?” she asks wryly. She catches up with Cady and slings an arm around her, nuzzling into her hat for just a second. Cady leads her out of the hospital grounds and down the street, Janis growing more confused by the second. None of them live close enough to walk, but they’ve already passed the bus stop and she hasn’t seen any sign of a car. Given how Janis is under curfew, they’d know better than to go somewhere on the other side of town, or at least she’d like to think that.

“Caddy… you have a plan don’t you?” she asks as they turn a corner.

“Yes, I do. Why, are you okay?” Their eyes suddenly go wide and their pace slows as they put their hand on her chest. “Because we can stop and wait if you-” 

“I’m fine, Caddy,” she says. She takes their hand and kisses their fingers softly. “Other than being seriously concerned about your mental, I’m fine. Really.” Cady hesitates for a minute before nodding and resuming walking, still much slower than usual. And their grip on Janis’ hand is tighter, although it loosens when their destination comes into view.

And Janis has to admit, she’s impressed.

“Oh wow,” she breathes. They’re outside a fancy-looking restaurant, all sleek white walls and the name written in swirling cursive across the top. Not completely out of their league, but not somewhere she’s been before. “Caddy-”

“Regina pulled some strings,” they confess. “She says she knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. And she ran it by Damian beforehand. He kind of put most of this together.” They swing their hands together. “But don’t tell him that, he doesn’t really want credit.”

Janis chuckles, the kind where a snort comes after it, and she squeezes Cady tightly as an unexpected wave of emotion comes crashing over her.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Tell me when you get in there.”

The inside is even nicer than the outside, albeit not nearly as fancy as she would expect. Dark blue walls host portraits bursting with colour and detail, and Janis has to hold herself back from running up to them and taking notes of the artists’ names. It’s almost all private booths with dark leather seating, and the music is upbeat and fun but low enough for them to have actual conversation.

The only pitfall though is that she’s suddenly, painfully aware of how she looks. She dressed nice, as per Cady’s request, but there are few times she’s ever been so aware of her lack of hair.

“Come on, we’re over here.” When Cady drags her over to their table, she finds not only Damian, sitting at the only empty bench, but Karen, Gretchen and Regina squished into the row opposite them. And weirdly, Regina’s presence isn’t as uncomfortable as it should be. Not that she’ll let them know that. And sitting on a stool beside them, possibly more shockingly-

“Aaron?” she says in disbelief. He gets up and runs around to hug her. “What are you doing here?”

“Well you know me,” he says. “Never one to pass up on a party. Cady invited me.” He squeezes her shoulders. “It’s good to see you.” Janis chuckles and taps his shoulder. Most people would feel weird at their girl’s ex being at their birthday party, but any awkward feelings between her and Aaron faded months ago and left only quiet friendship in its wake.

“Happy birthday, Janis!” Karen squeaks.

“Many happy returns, kiddo,” Damian says as she slides into the booth beside him. He tilts his glass towards her and winks. “Don’t worry. They won’t serve us alcohol.”

“Maybe I’ll play the cancer card later,” she says. She lets out a laugh as she sits down and fully takes it in, not only the restaurant itself, but the five of them, dressed up like they’re at something far fancier, the small pile of presents badly hidden under the table and the tell-tale plastic bag at Gretchen’s feet. She’s not crying, but she feels something close to it, emotions stirring in her chest. Damn it, what did she do to deserve these people? “You did all of this for me?” 

“Like I said,” Damian replies. “You only turn 18 once.”

“Heard you picked the place,” she says to Regina.

“Technically no,” she replies. “Gretchen knew about it, and Damian thought you might like it. I just happen to know the owner.” She flicks her hair behind her shoulder. “He’s my dad’s golf buddy. Hence the cool table.”

“How impressive.” She looks over at Gretchen, whose nails tap on the table, and she grins. “Thanks, Gretch.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” she says. “I just looked for places that might have a lot of vegetarian stuff. Damian picked the table and everything.”

“Well, you all did an amazing job,” she says. “Seriously guys, thank you so much.”

“Okay, the food’s been ordered, again courtesy of Gretchen,” Cady begins, but Janis has to cut her off.

“Hang on,” she says. “Gretch, is that why you texted me this week asking my opinion on the tofu skewers?”

“Um… yes?” Her voice climbs two octaves, and her cheeks flush pink. “Was I subtle?”

“You were. I was totally convinced you were planning on making a home-cooked vegetarian dinner.” She taps her girlfriend’s arm. “Sorry Caddy, you were saying?”

“So, food’s been ordered… so do you want presents now or later?” she asks, and Janis chokes on her water.

“You got me presents?” she echoes. “Like, actual presents?”

“No they’re fake,” Damian says, and he nudges her with his elbow. “Of course we got you real presents on your real birthday. What else would we get you?”

Seriously, seriously loves them.

“You guys!” she says. “Come on!”

“Can you open presents first?” Karen asks timidly, her eyes shining. She almost bounces on her seat. “Only I really, really want to see if you like mine.”

Janis laughs, and her heart is warmed.

“Okay, sure,” she says. “And I’m sure I will.”

And she does. Karen’s present is a dark purple sweater, impossibly soft and warm and also just what she needed, as well as a tub of sour gummies.

“I know you said you can only really taste sour things some days,” she says. “I thought they’d help, do they?”

“Karen,” she whispers, touched. “They’re perfect, thank you.”

Gretchen gets her two sets of pyjamas, one black and covered in white bats, the other grey and covered in little witch hats. If she should be concerned about what that says about her as a person, she isn’t. Not at all. Even Aaron gets her a cute throw pillow and some sparkly pens, telling her he’s never shown up at a party empty handed.

To her shock, Regina comes through, as she opens a leather bound notebook with a small metal dragon on the front. It looks like something out of a better version of Lord of the Rings, and it’s seriously cool.

“Thank you, Regina.” It feels incredibly weird to say those words and mean them. Even weirder when she opens it and there’s no insult on it. “By the way, I like the haircut.”

“Oh,” she runs her hand through it and shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. I wanted it done for a while.”

“Didn’t you say you did it for that charity that makes wigs for cancer patients?” Karen asks.

To say Janis is surprised is an understatement. Her jaw hits the ground at the revelation as her mind tries to put the two parts together. Regina, getting a haircut not just for charity, but for something that directly affects her? She would think it impossible, if the evidence weren’t sitting in front of her. And judging by Cady’s reaction, she’s not the only one shocked.

“Yeah that was a plus,” Regina says nonchalantly. “Hey, when’s the food getting here, I’m starving.”

“Yeah, you still haven’t opened mine,” Damian says, pushing a large box towards her. “Come on, I’m shivering with anticipation here!”

“The fact that you didn’t do the dramatic pause there is criminal,” she tells him. When she tears away the paper, her shock at Regina’s revelation is almost completely blown away by what she sees inside. She doesn’t even have it fully open when she realises. 

“Oh my freaking God!” she yells. A few waiters turn their heads, as do customers, and she drops her voice significantly. “Damian, this is the coolest thing ever.” She launches herself into him and wraps both arms around his shoulders, her face buried in his shirt. “Thank you. I don’t even want to know how long you had to look for them.”

“Oh it was nothing, babe. I only started in July.” His arms tighten around her then, his hold shifting from casual to something more meaningful. Something more _them_. “Happy birthday Janis.” And her breath catches in her throat.

“Okay,” she breathes, pulling away from him. “I guess that leaves one person.”

Cady chuckles, their cheeks turning red, and they hand them a little white bag packed with silver tissue paper. Out of the corner of their eye, Janis can see the anticipation creeping up their face, the way their smile drops just enough. She reaches over with her free hand and squeezes theirs gently. She’ll love whatever it is, because it’s from Cady, and that’s more than enough to-

“Oh my gosh.” A quiet hush falls over her, seemingly over the restaurant, like a magic spell, and she’s transfixed by what’ in the bag. “You got me a dragon?” It’s small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, its skin a deep, glossy black that gleams under the lights and a heavy purple gem sitting in its stomach. She runs her finger around it, utterly in love with how it glitters. She-it’s a she, of course- looks up at her with wide eyes, inviting her to come on an adventure with her. She almost wishes Cady had given it to her in private so that she could have more time looking at it, examining every detail of it. “Cady,” she whispers. “It’s amazing.”

“It is?”

“Of course.” She tears her eyes away from her long enough to look at Cady. “I mean, she’s beautiful. She’s prefect, thank you!” Before Cady can even answer her again, Janis crushes her in a hug. She closes her eyes, both to savour the moment and because they’re suddenly wet. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Okay, lovebirds, food’s here,” Regina announces as a group of waiters arrive with starters. She pulls away from Cady, with a little tugging from Damian, while waiters place mouth-watering plates between them and the rest of her friends start picking up cutlery and passing around plates, excited chatter bouncing around the table. She would say it was just like old times, except there was never a time when all six of them were like this, like friends, real friends. So when they raise their glasses to her, she raises hers to these new times.

Her dad picks her up later, just as she feels herself starting to crash. They’ve gotten this down to a T, her and her parents, and Janis wonders if she should be freaked out by it.

Cady and Damian are the only two left by the time she gets there, Regina having already left and given the others a ride home and Aaron needing to head back to college. While Karen and Gretchen had thrown their arms around her and hugged her tightly, Regina had settled for a quick nod and a wave. Janis far prefers it that way honestly.

“Well, someone hit the present jackpot,” her dad remarks. “What was the occasion?”

“Oh shush,” she replies. Her dad lets her keep the window open and she leans out of it for her final goodbyes. “You two text me when you get home, okay?”

“Shouldn’t we be telling you to do that?” Damian jokes. “We will, kid.”

“And thank you guys,” she says. “Seriously. So, so, so much. I love… I loved it.” She clears her throat. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble just for me.”

“Sure we did,” Cady grins. “You’re officially an adult now. That’s something to celebrate.”

“That’s scary,” she replies. Behind them, headlights flash angrily at them and a second later a horn tears through the night.

“That’s my cue to shift it,” her dad mutters. “See you kids later.”

A chorus of ‘bye Mr Sarkisian’ later they’re off, heading not on the road to her house but on the road to the hospital again.

“So it was good?” he asks.

“It was amazing,” she sighs as she leans back in her seat. She wants to ramble on about everything, her friends, the presents, the restaurant, but her mouth stays closed, her brain instead focussing on the soft lights of the city that pass them by.

She’s asleep long before they reach the hospital. She wakes hours later with the blankets tucked around her, a birthday card and Cady’s dragon on her table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked xx  
> comments and kudos validate the writer <3
> 
> also, sending all my love and support to people in america, and beyond. what is happening is so beyond scary. stay safe, and do whatever you need to do to stay sane.


	20. Chapter 20

Janis shifts a little on the armchair, giving Maddie more room in her lap and giving herself more space to breathe. They’re sharing one chair in the lounge, Maddie pressed against her chest and her arms around her waist, their eyes on the TV in front of them. Janis had almost forgotten about early afternoon cartoons, or had at the very least believed they were a part of her life she’d never revisit, but she walked in on some of the other kids watching them in and she’s happy to say they have the same effect on her eighteen year old self as they did her ten year old self. Even if she does constantly need them explained to her but hey, she’s old now. She has the sleep schedule to prove it.

“I wish they’d let us watch Netflix in here,” Maddie sighs. “They say we’re not allowed it because too many people would be taking advantage of it, and that since it’s a private company we can’t watch it on a public TV.” She leans her head against Janis’s shoulder. “And because they think we’ll watch age inappropriate stuff on it.”

“That’s a valid concern,” Janis tells her. “Because I just know you watched Insidious last week and then lied to your mother about it.” She squeezes Maddie around the waist, eliciting giggles from the younger girl. “Don’t even try to deny it. Besides, cartoons are more fun than horror movies.”

Maddie hums and doesn’t deny it nor does she disagree, her feet swinging innocently on the side of the chair. Janis rests her cheek against her head, the beanies and scarf gone today. It isn’t-or rather it shouldn’t be-something unusual. While it isn’t exactly common, she’s seen a few people around the ward hatless. Not like they have anywhere to go. Janis is just still getting used to this part, and wearing a hat every day is one hurdle. She supposes she’ll jump that one when-and if-she comes to it.

She heads back to her room a little later-the good cartoons are over and most people, including her, have rounds scheduled pretty soon. She wants back arm-in-arm with Maddie, a gesture she hasn’t taken since her middle school days. There’s a lot she loves about her new friendship with Maddie-it’s probably as close to having a younger sister as she is ever going to get-and one of the best parts of it is how she can fully indulge the inner 13 year old that still lives inside her. She hadn’t realised how fun letting that part of her out would be.

She throws herself down on the bed with some amount of grace when she gets in, twisting roughly onto her back and reaching for her phone with one hand while blindly getting a rice cake out of the packet with the other. She waits while the various social media apps alert her to new notifications-a celebrity posted on Instagram, someone liked her tweet, she’s gotten another anonymous message on Tumblr… the usual stuff, basically. She scrolls through idly, just about to all down the rabbit hole until-

“Janis!” 

“Never mind,” she sighs. When she switches off her phone, her mom is at the foot of her bed, her door still slightly open and her eyes glittering. Janis would simply offer a raised eyebrow and a dry remark, were it not for the two at her mom’s side, a man and a woman a few years younger than her mom, both dressed in white polo shirts and jeans. They give off slight camp counsellor vibes in those outfits. The man carries a cardboard box under his arm, stamped with black crowns, and they have the same soft yet ecstatic grin that the Cancer Centre people do.

“Uh… Hi?” she says, sitting up. She half-raises her arm into a wave. “I’m Janis?”

“Is this a bad time?” The girl asks in a low voice, and it’s not clear whether she’s talking to her or her mom. Any feelings of fatigue or lazy desires are chased away in an instant, and Janis sits up taller and raises her chin, her own smile plastered across her face. Just a hint of spite, enough to get her message across.

“Not at all,” she says, and she slides her phone into her pocket. “What’s up?”

“Oh well, we’re from the Rapunzel Foundation,” the man explains. Janis blinks for a second, and then

“The wig people,” she says.

“For convenience’s sake, you could say that” he replies and Janis’ eyes immediately fall to the box in his hand. It’s not overly big, but then it really wouldn’t need to be.

“Oh,” is all she can say. She swings her legs around the side of the bed and stands up, her hands shoved in her pockets. “Um… so I take it you… have it?” She shakes her head, huffing a laugh in the otherwise awkward pause. “Sorry, this is coming off like we’re in a drug trade.” 

“It’s fine, Janis,” he says. “But yes, we have your wig all ready for you. Well, wigs. We actually have a few you can look at.”

“Cool,” she mutters. He lifts the box, tilting it towards her, and it takes a second for her to nod. She slides back against the wall and wraps her arms around herself, taking a millisecond to check out her mom’s expression. She’s grinning like a mad woman; she thinks the last time she saw her mom that excited was at her last art show. She can’t blame her, she guesses, because it’s a big thing, isn’t it? After weeks of beanies, this is at least something new.

“Now we couldn’t get one that looked exactly like your hair before,” the girl explains. “You had a bit of a unique hairstyle.”

“Inimitable, that was the idea,” she says.

“And we aren’t allowed to dye these wigs for safety reasons,” she goes on. “But… we did make up a few others. Here, take a look.” Janis looks down and finds three wigs laid out on her bed. Her first thought is that they’re scarily realistic. They would be after all; they’re all made of real human hair. That’s why Regina now has a bob despite swearing to her once she’d never do that.

Then comes the terrifying thought-holy crap what if one of these is made from Regina’s hair?

Being bald might be better than wearing Regina’s hair. Scratch that, definitely would be.

She shakes her head. These wigs are darker than Regina’s hair; each one deep black to her brown, and she breathes. Her natural colour. One is long, curling slightly at the bottom. Kind of a Morticia Addams style, she thinks, and the corner of her mouth quirks up. The second is similar, albeit shorter and with side bangs, and then finally one that would reach to her shoulders, or just above, more waves than the first one. She remembers way, way back in middle school, before Regina talked her into another stupid decision. When her hair was dark black and held by sparkly silver hair pins.

“Can I try that one?” she asks, pointing at the third one.

She pulls up one of the visitors’ chairs, two pillows stuffed beneath her to reach the mirror, while the man-Anthony, she corrects-holds the wig behind her and brushes it out. It falls softly against his hand and her own itches to run her fingers through it. But her heart is in her mouth at the same time, and she has no idea why. She thought, when they first told her about getting the wig, that she’d be jumping at the chance. That she wouldn’t have the small but still present urge to tell them to pack it up and go.

“You ready?” Antony asks.

She closes her eyes and nods.

It’s heavier than she thought it would be. Antony’s fingers run along her face as he settles it and she fights the urge to flinch. She’s not good with this sort of contact at the best of times. He plays around with it a bit more, fluffing it and swishing it and who knows what else, as her fingers fidget on the arms of the chair.

“You can open your eyes now.”

When she does, the gasp escapes her mouth before she can stop herself. In the refection, she watches as she reaches up and fidgets with the stands that stop, as she thought, just above her shoulders. She looks at it for a long time, trying to work out how it looks. If it looks real or not.

“I look-”

She doesn’t want to say normal. It’s the closest word she can find to it and yet doesn’t want to say it. Luckily, her mom is there.

“You look like Veronica.”

“Oh no I don’t,” she sighs. “I do not look like Veronica.” 

“Sorry, who’s Veronica?” the girl asks.

“My younger sister,” her mom explains. “Janis’ aunt.”

“Who everyone swears up and down I look exactly like,” she adds. “And I do not.” Janis leans back in the chair and twirls the end strand round her finger. “I look good though.” 

“So does that mean you’ll take this one?” the girl asks. “You can still try on the others if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Janis replies. She nods, a little to them, a little to her mom and a little to herself. “This is it. This is the one.”

She doesn’t really leave her room for the next few hours. Or the chair either, for that matter. The only serious move she makes is when she realises her nurse is coming in five minutes and that sitting staring intensely at a mirror is probably not a good way to greet her. She feels strangely self-conscious when the walks in, like the elephant in the room is doing cartwheels on top of her head. She taps her feet on the floor, waiting for the acknowledgement that never comes. She wonders if nurses often do comment on people’s wigs, or if that’s strictly a no-go area.

“Mom?” she eventually asks, a barely-eaten sandwich sitting in her lap and her IV neatly tucked in the corner. “Is this weird?”

“Is what weird?”

“This. Me sitting in front of the mirror all day.” She shrugs and takes a bite out of her sandwich. “I mean… you have to find it weird. I find it weird and I’m the one doing it.”

“Not at all,” she says, and then she breaks out into a grin. “You do look good, Janis. It’s a great wig.”

“Yeah.” 

“And… it’s a bit of a change, isn’t it?” her mom adds. “I suppose it takes some getting used to.”

Janis nods again. To say it’s a bit of a change is an understatement. This morning, it was patently obvious what was wrong with her. Now, while she’s still stick-thin and alarmingly pale and sitting in her pyjamas, she looks healthier. That’s the word she’ll replace normal with, she tells herself. She doesn’t look sick, or at least not really. Not that sick.

Should she be this happy about it? Surely it’s a good thing, right?

“Mom I need you to promise me something,” she says.

“Anything.” There’s a serious tone to her mom’s voice that she shouldn’t find funny but does.

“If I am still sitting here an hour later, smash my head into this mirror,” she jokes. She takes another bite of her sandwich and brushes crumbs out of her wig. She hasn’t done that in weeks, she realises, and while it’s a stupid, tiny thing it, it excites her. The thrill sparks deep inside her chest and makes a laugh bubble out of her mouth. “Or maybe give me an hour and a half,” she adds.

*****

She FaceTimes Cady later that night and there’s no lying about her intention. It’s the same logic as Cady sending her a selfie of the cute shirt she just bought. There’s no harm in showing off. Especially after she already spent most of today showing it off to her hospital friends. Melissa was polite enough about it, calling it pretty and commenting on how it doesn’t look like her hair from beforehand. But her words are short and carefully chosen, and Janis has to stop herself from staring at Melissa’s hair the whole time. Her real hair that hasn’t fallen out yet. She’s not jealous of her, it’s stupid to be jealous in circumstances like this, but she can’t help but feel awkward about it. Still, Melissa grins at her when she puts it on and pokes her in the stomach, telling her she looks “hot” and even comparing her to Winona Ryder’s 1980s years.

“Now that’s a compliment,” Janis had told her.

Maddie on the other hand is much more animated, stroking it with a careful hand and wide eyes which dart to the hairbrush on the bed three times before Janis takes the hint and hands it to her. She’s a little unsure about it really, but it’s sitting on a stand on the end of the bed and what harm can one little girl do to it? Especially when the one little girl is Maddie.

She checks herself in the camera once more, telling herself it’s the last time. She pulls it down just a little bit only to shift it back again. It sits comfortably on her head, the dark strands falling into her view when she bends down and the bangs ruffling when she blows up. She spent more time than she cares to admit sitting on her bed blowing them earlier today.

“You really need a hobby,” she tells herself, out loud, before she hits the call button. As she waits, she taps her fingers on the mattress and finds herself suddenly aware of the sketchbooks she slid under her bed. She told herself she needs a hobby, but doesn’t she kind of already have one? Or rather, she had one. When was the last time she picked one of her books up? A cold feeling settles in her stomach. Sometimes her life here can get pretty busy, but she was also kept busy outside of here and she always made time to draw.

“Janis!” Cady replies, pulling her out of her thoughts. The audio cracks and crickles as they move through their house, the picture freezing and jumping. “Hey, what’s up, sorry I was downstairs.”

“No, it’s fine,” Janis replies. “Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” they say. “Not I was just doing homework at the table. I just got in from tutoring a half an hour ago and I couldn’t be bothered walking all the way upstairs.” The wall behind them turns from dirty white to baby blue, and Cady’s bedroom door with a hundred jackets hanging on it closes behind them. “Okay, so what’s-woah.” Their eyes go wide, and Janis chuckles. “That’s new.”

“Yeah, it is,” Janis replies, pushing her hair away from her face. “I hope you’re talking about the wig and nothing else. Although it would be remiss of you not to notice the new lights around my bed.”

“I’ve noticed the lights. I suggested the lights,” Cady says. They flops down onto their bed, one knee tucked up against them and their chin resting on it. Their smile slowly stretches across their face. “You look good, it looks good. When did it happen?”

“Only today,” she says. “Which is weird because I was told about it a while back. You know it was made from real human hair.”

“Cool,” they breathe. “So is that… is that what your hair was like before you dyed it and shaved it and… did all that to it?”

“All that,” she replies. “You sound like my Catholic grandma.” She ruffles her wig and lets the hair land on her face. “But yeah. If we had met in middle school… pre-Regina, obviously… I would have looked like this.”

“Wow,” they whisper. “Imagine we had. You and me meeting in middle school. You’d have hated me.”

“You’d have hated me,” she replies. “I was Plastic, remember? Or at least, I was baby plastic. And I had some really embarrassing obsessions at that time. Had we been really good friends, I’d have forced you to come to Hot Topic with me.”

“Well thank goodness you’ve outgrown that,” Cady says dryly. They laugh, but then Janis imagines it, a much-younger her with a much-younger Cady, both more innocent in some ways, less interested in high school cliques. It might be pointless fantasizing about it, but it’s fun all the same. “It looks gorgeous Janis. Really. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks turn pink and warm as she rests her face on her fist. “So how was school?”

“Oh, fine,” they reply. “I’ve… dropped some of my tutoring subjects. Today was my last day with little Ruby.”

“Oh no,” Janis says. “Um… why was that?”

“Well, if you want a visual.” The camera tilts and dips as she gets up, and for a second freezes on her halfway extended past it, before it jumps and she’s holding a piece of paper in front of it, practically covered in black pen and coloured marker. It hurts Janis’ head just to look at. “This is my schedule pre-cancellations.” They switch pages, now showing her a much cleaner page, more plain white blocks. When she looks closer and the camera focuses, she sees ‘free time’ written on them in lilac. “This is my schedule now.”

“Ah, I see,” Janis says. “You pencilled in some free time.”

“I was drowning,” they sigh dramatically, throwing their head back, tossing their hair and waving their arm for the full effect. “Now I’m just floating. Instead of being significantly more stressed than the average senior, I’m just normal stressed.”

“Aw good for you my little stressed fish,” Janis jokes, leaning forwards on her elbow and cupping her chin. “So? Stress huh?”

“So much stress,” they reply. “I just… no I’m coping.” They shake their head and Janis bets there’s a hundred, if not a thousand, invisible formulae and equations dancing in front of Cady’s eyes. “Once I get to winter break, then I’ll be good to go. And then I can direct much more of my attention to you babe.”

“Good, because I’m feeling real attention deprived over here,” she replies, only for the smile on Cady’s face to drop slightly. “Okay, no I’m not. Although having said that, my mom is starting to ease up on me and it’s a little weird. She hasn’t checked in on me in twenty minutes. I think she may be dead.”

“That sounds like a record,” Cady replies. “Oh! Speaking of records, guess what?”

“Um… you just broke the record for whoever can make their girlfriend jump the highest?”

“No,” they reply. “So the Mathletes and I have our first tournament coming up! We qualified for state championships and our first contest is on December 14th. It’s against the Saint Paul’s team.”

“Ah. The private school,” Janis replies, wrinkling her nose. While the main rivalry has and always will be between North Shore and Merrymount, there’s always been a lingering disdain for the private schools they compete against. “Make sure you kick them right in their plaid skirt covered asses. Also how did you get that from records?”

“Well, breaking records is like a contest, right?” they reason. “And I plan on setting the ‘record’ for the Mathlete captain with the most wins under their belt.” They grin then, and there’s a wicked gleam in their eye that while Janis loves, she finds it just a little bit unsettling. “Starting with those spoiled little rich kids.” 

“Oh this competitive streak of yours is so hot,” she whispers, winding a lock of hair around her fingers. It’s almost silky smooth against her skin and out of nowhere she wonders; had her hair beforehand ever felt like this? Her eyes widen as she realises she can’t remember. It hasn’t been that long in the scheme of things since she lost her hair, she just never paid attention. Why would she? Not like she could have seen this coming. If she had, would she have taken more notice? Would she have stopped taking it for granted? Stopped overthinking the way she looks? She supposes she can put those questions to bed now that she has this.

“Uh… Janis? Earth to Janis!”

“Woah, yeah, hi,” she says. She straightens herself up, her back squarely against the bed board, and shakes her head. “Sorry, um, went down the rabbit hole for a minute.”

“See anything nice down there?” Cady smiles, and their tone is light with a slightly sarcastic edge, but even with the poor quality video, Janis can see the worry around her eyes.

“No white rabbits, no mad tea parties either,” she mutters. “Beginning to think there was some false advertising going on.”

“Take that up with Disney,” Cady says dryly. “They lied to you.”

They talk for a bit more, about stupid, meaningless stuff like school and math and Maxie (that last one isn’t so meaningless), and over time Janis turns onto her side, her phone gently balanced between her mattress and her arm. Janis feels their time coming to a close; with her next round approaching and Cady probably having to go do actual productive stuff. Still she feels reluctant to let them go, especially when little nagging doubts hang at the back of her mind and desperately beg for reassurance. She bides her time even with them, waiting until they’re both quiet, when she can’t bring up something else and stop herself from asking. She feels stupid asking, but she can’t not ask it either.

“So…” she finally asks. “You like the wig?”

Cady smiles and Janis hears the rush of her exhale crackling against the mic.

“I do,” they reply. “I really do. You look good, Jan.” Janis grins at that, a weight lifted off her chest that she hadn’t realised was there. “And you like it too?”

“Of course,” she replies. “I mean, what’s not to like? I look hot. And it… feels good, I guess. It feels nice to have hair again.” She bites her tongue before she can say anything else. Cady doesn’t need to know about anything else, about how this is probably the closest to looking (and feeling) normal she’s gotten in a long time. All Cady needs to do is be happy here. “Kay, I’ll let you go, babe. See you later.”

“See you,” Cady says. But just as Janis is about to press the hang up button, Cady interjects, “Janis?” Her finger pauses a hair’s length from the screen. “I love the wig, seriously. But I also… you looked great without it too.” They shrug awkwardly at that, their eyes avoiding her. “Just… thought you should know.”

They hang up before Janis can respond, and all she can do is sit and wonder how she would have responded to that. 

*****

She spends much of the evening in her bedroom, curled up in a ball with her chin on her pyjama-clad knees. Her most recent round was-for some reason-a particularly strong one, and as it pushed its way through her veins it took more and more out of her in return. She’s been assured time and again that this is normal, standard procedure, and that above all it means the medicine’s working, doing what it’s supposed to be doing. She should be glad of that, if that’s the case. But oh boy, does it make her feel crummy.

“Okay. Kitchen’s nearly closed, last chance to eat something,” her mom says. She’s standing in the middle of the room, hovering between her bed and the door, her hands wrung together. “You want something?”

Janis shakes her head and turns onto her side as her stomach twists once again, a shiver running through her body. She looks at the wall, the TV on playing some show she’s long since stopped paying attention to.

“You sure, hon?”

In her mind, there’s a verbal answer, but in reality she only nods and pulls the covers tighter around her. Her mom folds her arms, her eyes flitting to the ground. Weeks ago she’d have insisted over and over again that Janis eat something, bargaining with her until Janis either finally gave in and agreed to pick at whatever meal she brought up or until Janis snapped at her and the argument fizzled out. Now though she just nods in understanding and brings her over a glass of water.

It’s less draining for both of them, but not by much.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” she tells her. “Holler if you need anything.”

 _I’ll holler_ she means to say, but her throat is dry and tight and the words never make it past her cracked lips.

Her mom slips out the door, letting it click shut behind her and the sound of her footsteps is quickly lost in the evening buzz. Another thing her mom has learned about nights like these is to close the door on her way out and back in. You wouldn’t think it matters, but it does. The idea of talking feels alien to her at these points, and the only thing more impossible is getting up and shutting the door herself.

Quiet hums in the empty room, her ears ringing in it. It will pass, she reminds herself, like it always does, it’s just a question of when. In an hour, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night. She might spend the next 24 hours in this very same position, the only thing changing being the time on the clock. She has done that once or twice before. Lost whole days of her life half-sitting in a bed while other people flocked around her.

She takes a long, steady breath in as her insides roll again and goosebumps prickle on her white skin. She reaches over and manages to make herself lift the water sitting by her bed, taking it in in small, careful sips. She burrows further into the mattress and pulls the covers ever tighter around her as she searches for an extra semblance of warmth. As she wriggles, her wig slowly slides off her scalp, the longer strands sticking her pale, sweat covered neck.

With her free hand, she weakly reaches up and grabs a fistful of it; what once felt soft and beautiful now feels tatted and coarse in her clammy grip. She sits for a while, curling and uncurling her fist before, in one swift motion, she pulls it off her head and lets it drape across her lap, having no need for it now. It’s just for show after all, she realises, and who would she be showing off for now? ******

When she wakes up the next morning, she only feels a little bit better, and she panics when she realises the day that’s in it. It’s Friday, marked on the little calendar beside her bed as “Damian and Cady day”. She did that not long ago, when the support group suggested reminding herself what she has to look forward to. It felt like a good idea at the time, but now the glitter pen sits and mocks her. Cady and Damian are coming today, and she feels like she’s been dragged through a bush and then thrown in front of a bus.

She pushes herself upwards, blinking in the overhead lights, and rests her chin on her fist. Maybe she isn’t as bad as she thinks she is. Certainly, last night sitting up like this would have been near impossible, so that’s a win. And she feels up for trying to eat at least, although whether or not she could finish it is yet to be seen. Still, it’s an improvement, right? That has to count for something.

“Baby steps, Janis,” she reminds herself. “Just… baby steps.” She pushes herself around so that her feet dangle over the side of the bed, her legs stiff and sore from the lack of movement from yesterday, not to mention cold air nipping at them. The heaters should be coming on any minute now. She grips the side of the mattress tightly, her palms pressing hard into the surface until they hurt. Her eyes don’t move from one spot on the wall, a trick she learned early on. Although this time it isn’t to stop the room from spinning, it’s to stop herself from backing out. She breathes out slowly, the air creeping past her gritted teeth, and stands up.

She surprise herself, even with the near tumble she takes when she gets there. But not eating for twelve consecutive hours will do that to you, she supposes with a shrug, and she stretches out her body, not bothering to hide the groans and sighs of relief as she does so. The feeling comes back into her hands as she shakes them out before checking herself in the mirror. She’s not completely fine with it; dark smudges still sit beneath her eyes, her skin still as white as the sheets on her bed, but she can work with this. She can build herself back up from last night.

Especially now that she’s got this.

She turns around and soon spots the wig sitting on the stand clipped to the end of her bed. Since she doesn’t remember picking it up and was certainly in no state to be doing so, she guesses her mom must have done so. When she picks it up, she finds it brushed out too, and makes a mental note to thank her mom for it.

She throws it on herself and pushes the bangs slightly out of her eyes before looking back up. It’s amazing, really, the difference this thing makes. With this, plus a few tricks with her make-up, she could probably pass for healthy. Or at least, not as sick as she actually is. The corner of her mouth turns up into a smile as she thinks about to; dares to dream about going out in public without sympathetic looks or pity-induced freebies being thrown her way. Is she wrong to be excited about this?

And the most important part; in front of Cady and Damian, she can look better, and that’s what she’s aiming for more than anything else.

******

By that afternoon, she’s not where she wants to be, but she’s at a healthy middle at least. By that she means she can push through it and convincingly cover up the fact that her body is crumbling inside. It’s far from ideal, but she’s more than happy to stick with it. If it’s sucking it up for a few hours or losing one of the few times she sees her friends in person rather than on a video call, it’s a no brainer, really.

She keeps a bottle of water by her bed and another one close by, just in case, and spends the day carefully arranging herself in her bed, not so comfortable she’ll never get out but at the same time letting herself store up strength. It makes the day longer, all this sitting around and careful eating, and she has enough sense to know what she’s doing is ridiculous. And it makes her realise, again, how she can’t freaking wait for all this to be over. For there to be a time when she can hang out with her friends without having to feel like she’s putting on a show for them.

She just about remembers to put her wig on before they arrive. Gingerly, she lifts it from its stand and slips it on, her hands delicate and cautious, like she’s handling a live animal. She runs her fingers through it and pushes the bangs back slightly, away from her face. She does tend to look better when they’re like that. She tugs and pulls at it for a few seconds, and then the seconds become minutes, all the while she keeps an anxious eye on the clock. She can see them in her mind’s eye, crossing the lobby, getting into the elevator, the doors opening, and strangely she feels like she’s fighting against time as she gets ready. 

She’s just got it the way she wants when Cady pokes her head around the door, and she forces herself to breathe.

“Hey babe,” she says softly, tiptoeing swiftly across the floor and onto the bed, holding her hand out. A soft groan escapes Janis as Cady pulls her down and settles on top of her, equal parts careful and playful. Damian sits himself in the visitor’s chair with his feet up on her bed and his chin rested on his fist, giving her a small wink as he sits.

“Like the bandana,” she tells him, gesturing with her chin. Rather than a hat, his head today is covered by a yellow bandana, tied in a neat bow at the base of his head, and she vaguely recognises it, the memory like a fuzzy old video slowly becoming sharper. “Is that from _Calamity_?”

“Indeed,” he replies. “I was clearing out my closet and found it there. It’s neat, isn’t it?”

“Really neat,” she grins. “I’m just amazed it took you that long to fish it back out again. Wasn’t that show sophomore year?”

“Yes, and I feel horrible for neglecting her,” he sighs, fingering the edges. “I think I’m going to lean into the whole cowboy look now. I mean I already have the suspenders.”

“And an excuse to wear the funky hat,” Janis reminds him. “You know, I say go for it. If you can’t dress up like a cowboy during your senior year of high school, when can’t you?”

“Plus, if you get a boyfriend this year, you’ll be able to call him ‘partner’ without it sounding weird!” Cady adds in. There’s a momentary flicker across her face as soon as she says it, like she regrets it, but the moment Janis and Damian’s eyes meet they both bust out laughing, their eyes wide and their smiles even wider.

“Genius!” Damian declares. “I mean, we all knew you were a genius, but still. Genius!”

“Also does that make cowboys gay?” Janis adds. “If they had… ‘partners’?”

“Yes, cowboys are gay,” he replies. “That should be obvious to anyone.” Their laughter erupts again before slowly simmering down and Damian leans back while Janis swings her arm around Cady’s shoulders. Damian then opens his mouth only to close it again, his smile faltering and picking up again in the next second.

“And… speaking of headgear… might I say that the wig looks even cooler in person?” he says.

“Oh, this old thing?” She lowers her voice and imitates the old 1940s movie stars, tossing her hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes. She can’t deny the thrill that one of those actions gave her. “Oh, I just brought it out for you.”

“Well it looks stunning, doll face,” he replies, doing the same impression. Janis nods and hopes the glow on her cheeks is just in her mind.

“You know, those bangs really do suit you,” Cady remarks.

“Take your grievances up with eleven year old me who wanted to grow them out,” she sighs. “Eleven year old Janis made so many bad decisions.” Cady hums at that. Then her arm shifts behind Janis, and then her fingertips are touching the ends of her wig. It’s a discreet, delicate move, almost like she’s testing it out. In fact, it’s so light that Janis wouldn’t have known had she not caught it in the mirror. It’s not her hair after all. Just a replacement.

Her eyes meet Cady’s then, and hers are tinged with apprehension, a question in them. Janis replies with a smile and gently pulls her closer.

Even if it’s not her real hair, it feels almost the same.

Their time ends the way it often does, with Damian getting a text from his mom and looking sheepishly at the other two, giving them the silent signal that they have to go, even with half an hour left on the movie they stuck on. Cady sighs, dejected, but the unfinished movies have become a near-permanent fixture in their visits, so much so that Janis now knows not to put on a movie she had been meaning to show Cady, filing them for later.

“So I’ll call you tonight?” Damian asks.

“I look forward to it.” She pulls him into a tight hug, stretching on her toes only slightly. “See if you can find me a matching bandana in your closet, okay?”

“Deal.”

With that, and Cady’s goodbye kiss, she waves the two of them off, leaning on her door, half in the hallway, and watching them going. On a better day she’d walk them to the elevator, but just sitting down like that had depleted her. They both turn back to give her a final wave, and she has to laugh, and then they disappear around the corner. 

And then she lets out the most guilt-ridden sigh of relief there has ever been.

She turns around, groaning as the room tilts, and stumbles across to her bed. Her bedside water is nearly depleted, but the one under her bed is too far for her to reach. She can get it in just a minute, when the ringing in her ears stops and the room stops tilting, she decides. Even if she’d really, really love it now.

She buries her face in the pillow, her grip turning from tight to vice-like as she tries to block out her thoughts. Maybe if she falls asleep now, the water issue with disappear.

She must fall asleep, because when she opens her eyes again it’s an hour and a half later, and her throat is dry and cracked and her back is stiff. She pushes herself up into some half-sitting position and stretches herself out, her groan long and high and unapologetic. Not like anyone can hear her with the door closed and the people who could hear her probably don’t care. She pushes the curtain of hair away from her face before just pulling it off altogether and tossing it on the table. She’ll get round to fixing that sooner or later.

She wishes she could say that nap did her the world of good, but that isn’t really how it works. She needed it, yes, but now she feels like her brain has pins and needles and that her insides were shaken up. At least she won’t have any more visitors for tonight, she thinks, and so she leans back on her pillows, her hand clumsily reaching for her phone and her water.

There are two texts on the screen when she turns it on, one from Damian and one from their groupchat. She swipes the groupchat one away, seeing it’s from Gretchen and therefore probably not concerning her anyway, and after thinking on it for a second, she swipes Damian’s away too. She’ll come back to it when she feels like a person, she tells herself.

She blinks heavily and as she does, the screen comes into sharper focus and she sees the date across it. It’s the second last day of November, she realises with a sigh. Maybe she should have realised with the springing up of decorations and the darker skies and much longer nights. December is right around the corner and that thought brings none of the festive cheer it usually would. Instead all she can think is that she should have been getting out of here soon. If everything had gone according to plan, she’d be on her last few weeks. She’d probably be packing up to leave and throwing a goodbye party. Instead that’s all put off and she instead has another two months of this crap. And honestly, two months doesn’t even mean anything anymore.

Still, it’s at least halfway over, and when she feels up to it she’ll be happy about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo I'm aware that this chapter took way longer than usual. it was a fun combination of starting a new job, some personal stuff and imposter syndrome. anyway, hope you liked this x

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make a happy writer and a happy writer makes fics and fics makes a happy fandom!!


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